


The Operator

by Klara3745



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-24 15:23:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 67,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16177853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klara3745/pseuds/Klara3745
Summary: Sergeant Charlie Duffy appears at CI5 on a Moto Guzzi Le Mans motorbike hoping to avoid a face to face meeting with ex Sergeant Bodie knowing full well it will be unlikely, as CI5 are tasked with assisting the undercover Army operative deal with an IRA cell in London. It appears that Charlie and Bodie have history - their paths have crossed in the past on more than one occasion. Can they work together or will their history blow the operation wide open? Last time the two saw each other was with one severely injured in the back of an Army helicopter in Belfast three years previously. Both are hard headed and stubborn each blaming the other for events in their shared past.





	The Operator

The Operator

 

Tuesday 29 April 1980

Sergeant Charlie Price stood up and pushed the file across the table; time to stretch out the kinks and make a fresh mug of coffee before finishing packing things for the trip to London. As Charlie walked into the kitchen the Operator thought back over the last six months spent undercover back in Belfast and realised that on reflection nothing had changed in the last three years, just the names of the players. The flat felt cold and empty, lacking in familiarity which was not surprising considering that Charlie had only been back a little over forty eight hours and had literally exchanged one bag of clothes for another. As usual 14 Company had requested that Charlie report immediately to the CO to be briefed on the next phase of the operation and to collect the file before leaving for London. Charlie paused in front of the window sipping at the coffee, not looking at the view but mulling over file’s contents wondering why CI5 had been called upon to provide backup, given that the honours should have gone to the spooks of MI5 based at Thames House. Being in Belfast had drawn the Operator’s thoughts to the name mentioned in the file from 14 Company - Sergeant Bodie. The last time Charlie had seen or spoken to Bodie was three years ago whilst he had been attached to the SAS. Charlie thought back to their first meeting, which had been almost ten years ago in Belfast when Charlie had been involved with a contact whilst undercover which had resulted in the regular ‘green’ army being called to claim responsibility for the killing of two prominent republican activists. Charlie remembered being given the once over by a young fresh faced corporal in 2 Para whilst throwing up behind the nearest car, at the same time trying to explain the cover story given by all members of the MRF when involved in a contact. Charlie was sure that Bodie would remember the name Duffy, it was the undercover name that Charlie had always used when involved in this type of work. 

Right thought Charlie, down to business; clothes for the trip were in the rucksack along with the usual letters – one for the CO and one to be passed on to the solicitor, no one else to worry about. Charlie looked round at the few personal possessions – the TV, the stereo and records plus a few clothes, easy enough to pack into boxes and move to wherever after the op, if all went well. Suddenly Charlie grinned thankful for not living in quarters – been there done that, couldn’t be doing with all the rules and regulations. Living off base had its benefits – privacy, freedom and not least the ability to disappear at will, which suited the life of an Operator who could be called away at a moments notice for months at a time. Charlie picked up the file and placed it in the battered rucksack waiting by the door along with the bike helmet and jacket. A last look round and Charlie Price walked out, locked the door climbed on the bike and rode off without a backward glance.

‘Sergeant Price, the CO is looking for you’ said the private on the gate as Charlie rode up and lifted the visor.  
‘Thanks, Private’ Charlie replied pulling smoothly away from the booth. A few moments later Charlie parked the bike outside the CO’s office, removed the helmet and marched quickly in hoping to be out and away as soon as possible, preferably without seeing anyone. Five minutes later Charlie was in the CO’s office.  
‘You wanted to see me Sir?’  
‘Yes Sergeant. You’ve read the file and understand the nature of this operation?’  
‘Yes, Sir.’  
‘Do you think you can do this Sergeant? I understand that the work you’ve done over the last six months has been lucrative but remember this could stir up a hornets nest just like Belfast did. Are you sure that you can work with Sergeant Bodie given what happened over there? Do you still hold him responsible for what happened?’  
Charlie took a deep breath ‘Sir, I’ve not seen or spoken to Sergeant Bodie since the medical team got me out – he made it perfectly obvious that he didn’t want anything more to do with me when he didn’t even visit during the time I was hospitalised, or afterwards come to that. You’ve seen all my evaluations, both at the time and since, what happened happened and apportioning blame doesn’t change the facts Sir. I’ll admit the timing of this could be better, I’ve only been back forty eight hours, however I need to see this through. This op is important, if you don’t think I can be professional enough to see it through then find someone else to do it, however, I don’t think anyone else could pull this off. Duffy’s by far the best fixer around, I’ve established the reputation and qualifications necessary for this. If I am successful, and it’s a big if, then this could see an end to this current unrest that’s brewing.’  
As the CO looked at Charlie he saw how physically tired the Operator looked and realised how stressful the last six months must have been and he wished that he was in a position to delay the next part of the operation. As the CO appraised the soldier in front of him he noted that Charlie appeared to have lost weight since before the trip to Belfast, in fact there wasn’t an ounce of fat, it was all sleek muscle and he realised that he had never seen the Operator looking like that.  
‘Ok Price you’re in – however I want a full medical and psychiatric evaluation as soon as this is over, do you understand?’  
‘Yes Sir.’  
‘By the way your new posting details have already come through, you can collect them on your way out. I take it those are for me?’ Charlie handed the file and letters to the CO.  
The CO stood up and walked round the desk holding out his hand. ‘You know the protocols, Sergeant, you’ve done this before. Good luck Price, try not to get yourself killed.’  
‘Yes Sir, thank you’ replied Charlie shaking the proffered hand and coming to attention threw a precise salute before turning and marching out of the office to the waiting bike. Charlie paused for a moment by the bike clutching the envelop containing the new posting details, debating whether to open it or to wait until the op was over. Mind made up Charlie tucked the envelop into the inside pocket of the leather bikers jacket, pulled on the helmet, started the bike and rode out of the base.

The big black Moto Guzzi easily ate up the miles from Catterick down the A1 towards London. A little after six Charlie decided to pull off and look for a B&B for the night. As luck would have it the first one had a room for the night with the added bonus of somewhere under cover to leave the bike. Charlie checked in under the name of Charlie Duffy, incase anyone decided to check out the fixers movements, and discovered that the pub next door did evening meals. The room was basic, shared facilities but more than adequate for one night. A drink and a bath were in order before heading next door for a meal. Charlie opened the bottle of scotch bought en route and made for the bathroom, unwilling to leave the notes relating to the op behind they were tucked into the towel. As the bath filled up, Charlie sat on the floor with the scotch in one hand and the notes in the other, committing the final details to memory. Charlie laid back in the bath thoughts turning to Bodie and the various meetings they had had over the years; for the most part the meetings had been amicable but there had been the odd fight along the way. Charlie’s thoughts also turned to Duffy the fixer, who had first made an appearance in Belfast ten years ago. During the past six months or so Duffy’s reputation had become more ruthless and hardline, increasing interest from all sides. People and places came to mind, including a cocky young corporal who thought he knew everything. Charlie thought about the young, smug Corporal Bodie and remembered how he’d made a lasting impression for all the wrong reasons. Belfast held many dangerous memories for all personnel who had served there, in whatever capacity. Charlie still had nightmares and, unsurprisingly, these had started to increase over the last six months as Charlie had spent more and more time as Duffy. Charlie hurriedly dressed in an old shirt and jeans, closed the door and went next door for a meal, the notes tucked into the pocket of the bikers jacket. An hour or so later Charlie returned to the room, picked up the bottle of scotch and sat down to chase the demons away.

Thursday 30 August 1973

Charlie stood up and stretched, easing out the kinks that had formed after falling asleep on the cramped put-you-up bed that seemed to be a common feature of the shared accommodation that the powers that be deemed suitable for all its operatives stationed in Belfast. The thought of long hours stuck on stand-by with nothing to do but try and sleep in the confined port-a-cabins could be enough to put even the most hardened operator off from signing on for another tour. Charlie grimaced at the thought that there were still another six weeks to go on this tour, the first since the transformation of the MRF into 14 Company. Charlie realised that out of the staff scattered around Holywood there were only maybe a dozen operators who had completed two or more tours, plus the Boss, the rest of the compliment were on their first tour. Charlie was one of those on their third tour in the Province and as such was used to the rigours of living confined to base for months on end. Tomorrow marked the first day of the final rotation of six weeks on following the usual pattern of eight hour shifts round the clock and as a result Charlie was unable to settle, keen to get back out on the streets. Charlie’s room mate, John, was on duty and out in one of the Det’s nondescript cars tailing a known suspect round the Turf Lodge area of the city. There was a rumour doing the rounds that there was a shake up coming in the way the PIRA was running their operation - it was believed that the new Brigade commander was about to try the idea of setting up smaller active service units. The touts that supplied the Det with information were saying that the reason for introducing the ASU’s was an attempt to limit the damage caused to the Brigade as a whole when players were taken out of the picture. Each ASU was to be made up of five or six men who acted on the orders of Brigade but had no dealings with the higher levels of command, therefore if intercepted by the Army or security services they could not betray the whole area command. Charlie collected the Browning in its waistband holster and decided to head down to the ops room to see what was happening out on the ground - John and the team were about two hours into their shift, which was usually when things started happening especially as the pubs and clubs were throwing out the last of their regular customers.

‘Evening Boss’ said Charlie, walking into the ops room, ‘much going on?’

‘All quiet at the moment Charlie’ replied Simon, slipping the headset off one ear. ‘John is in Lima 1 on Mauve 1, Sally is foxtrot on Green 3 keeping eyeball on Tango 1, Pete is foxtrot on Blue 2 ready to take over if Tango 1 heads for his mistress at Alpha 3 instead of Alpha 1, Taff and Andy are in Kilo 1 circling the area ready incase one of them needs to go foxtrot to pick up Tango 2, who at the moment appears to be tucked up for the night at Alpha 2 and Rob is foxtrot outside the Divis Castle keeping an eye out for any other known players. Hopefully both Tangos will soon be tucked up for the night and things will stay quiet.’

Charlie took in the information and was able to picture the invisible net that was spread around the Turf Lodge area with the two major players at the centre - all the operators could immediately place each other on the map without having to physically look at it. Every time a new tasking was put forward each operator would have to sit and learn which tango was which and lived at which alpha along with the colour coded street map which was quicker to use than the street names. The longer you served as an operator the easier learning the street maps became and Charlie was lucky enough to have spent time in the area as a child when visiting family, which also gave the Operator an advantage in being able to come and go in some parts of the city where others would stand out. Charlie knew that Tango 1 was Jimmy Bryson and Tango 2 was Paddy Mulvenna, both of whom were high up in the Belfast Brigade - in fact Mulvenna’s brother-in-law was the ex-Brigade commander - and as such were in the current top ten of wanted PIRA targets. Jimmy Bryson had long been a legitimate target for 14 Company, having been detained on three separate occasions and managed to escape each time, the last time by over-powering a guard whilst being transferred from the Crumlin Road gaol to Court via the tunnel linking the two buildings. Bryson was skilled with an Armalite and scope and was one of the Brigade’s top snipers. Paddy Mulvenna on the other hand was a target simply because of the family he had married into - there was a lot to be said for being the brother-in-law of the ex-Brigade commander, even if he was currently in Long Kesh.

‘If things stay like this then I’m turning in, Boss’ said Charlie ‘you know where to find me if it all kicks off. I’ll be back at 0600.’

‘Cheers Charlie, it looks like its going to be a quiet one, get your head down. I’ve got a feeling that tomorrow could be a bit different. I thought you were on the late turn out tomorrow?’

‘I am but like you I’ve got that odd feeling about this op – Tango 1 is a slippery little bastard and I wouldn’t put it past him or Tango 2 to do a bit of fancy footwork to try and give us the slip’ replied Charlie. ‘Don’t forget that when I was last out and about the rumour was one of their own is looking to take Tango 1 out or so I heard in the Divis Castle.’

‘Well I wish they’d bloody well hurry up and get on with it and save us the trouble of following his sorry arse all round Turf Lodge’ said Simon ‘at this rate all the Q cars are going to have to be replaced pretty sharpish or we’re going to get pinged given the number of times they’ve been out lately!’

It was unusual for Simon to complain about the fact that the teams were out and about but Charlie could understand why the Boss was tetchy about things. This op seemed to be dragging on too long and it was getting close to the point where they were going to have to bin it and move on to the next tasking before someone got pinged or worse.

Charlie said goodnight to Simon and headed for the cook house for a quick bite to eat and then went back to the port-a-cabin to catch a few sleep hours before clocking on again in the morning. As usual Charlie had trouble getting off to sleep, the op and the lack of progress kept churning around in the Operator’s head. Realising that sleep was not going to come Charlie got up and went back to the ops room to see if Simon wanted a break from listening to the net. As Charlie sat listening in to the others complaining about the lack of action it occurred to the Operator that maybe it was time to dust off the bike again and get back out on the ground to see what was happening in the heart of the strongholds.

‘Boss,’ said Charlie when Simon came back at around 0400 ‘I’ve been thinking……’

‘I wondered why I could smell burning’ quipped Simon.

‘Piss off! Seriously how close are we to binning this one?’

Simon turned and looked at Charlie over the rim of his coffee cup ‘Why, what have you got in mind?’

‘Well the info we seem to be getting from the Freds seems to be a little, suspect, shall we say. How about I check in with Mrs Callaghan down on Glenalina Road and dust off Duffy and my bike, its been awhile since the family have seen me. Not only that I can see if our new recruits will be able to pick up Duffy, who is out in the morning?’

‘Kev, Tom, Dave, Sue, Mike and Ruth are set to take over the net.’

‘Good, in theory Kev should be the only one who has come across Duffy. I’ll have to borrow someone to get me out without the others knowing.’

‘I’ll draw a car and run you out myself, I could do with some fresh air’ said Simon. ‘You going to want to look like you've just got in from over the water?’

‘If that’s ok Boss, I can make my own way from the docks and pick up the bike en-route that way I shouldn’t ruffle too many feathers. Mrs Callaghan is used to me turning up out of the blue. Once I’ve checked in I’ll put myself out there and see what the locals are really saying.’

‘Ok Charlie, it sounds good, how long you going to be away?’

‘Hopefully only a couple of days but I’ll just have to play it by ear. If I get anything I’ll call it, what are we using for Code 1 at the mo?’

‘Would you believe “Hamlet”?’

As a senior operator along with John, Kevin and of course Simon, Charlie had access to a series of codes that enabled particularly sensitive info to be passed over the secure net directly back to the Boss. The system had been set up whilst Charlie had been working with the MRF to cover such situations where a deep cover agent would be working alongside regular operators, without their knowledge, to allow them to pass info without the need for face to face meetings which could compromise both the person or the mission.

Charlie groaned ‘surely it must be time for a change? Right I’ll go and sort out what I need and then I’ll go and draw the necessary hardware and ammo. What time do you want to lift off?’

Simon looked at the clock ‘about 0630 that should get us down to the docks about the right time for the early arrival.’

‘Ok Boss, I’ll be back here by 0600’ said Charlie handing the headphones back to Simon on the way out of the ops room. ‘By the way who have we got to call on if things go tits up?’

‘The Royal Green Jackets are on rotation at the moment, usual protocols if you need them. I’ll alert them of the fact that they could get a ping on Vengeful if they stop you.’

‘Cheers for that, it will be good to have some fresh faces to torment and hopefully I won’t run into anyone I know, it will make a change from dodging familiar faces in the Paras,’ said Charlie grinning. ‘See you later.’

‘Just behave yourself Charlie – I don’t want to have deal with any fall out or irate CO’s complaining about being ridden rough shod all over. I’ll let Kev know you’re going to be out and about, just incase he runs into anything that might be useful.’

‘Ok, see you later.’

Charlie walked back to the port-a-cabin running through what to take in the way of hardware, clothes were not an issue as Charlie had a room at Mrs Callaghan’s, a spare top and the rucksack would be enough along with spare ammo. Charlie grabbed the rucksack and a clean t-shirt then checked the bag for anything that could compromise the Operator. Charlie removed the waistband holster and threw it on the bed, the Browning could sit comfortably in the back of the waistband and if necessary there was a spare shoulder holster tucked away at Glenalina Road. Even though it was a little after 0500 the armoury was open and Charlie walked up to the bench and placed the Browning down in front of the operator on duty.

‘Morning Charlie, you’re up and about early, thought you were on late turn out? What can I do for you, you’ve not dropped it again and buggered up the sights have you?’

‘Morning Terry, no not this time. Have you got a nice clean one of these I can draw?’

Terry was one of the dozen or so operators on their third tour with 14 Company and the pair of them had worked together on previous tours and as a result Terry was aware of Charlie’s undercover persona and Duffy’s reputation, so Charlie’s request for a weapon that could not be traced by its serial number was not unusual.

‘By clean I take it you mean nice and untraceable am I right? I’m guessing that there’s going to be a couple of calls to the Green Jackets, especially if Duffy is out on the street, no don’t answer that I don’t want to know what you’re up to, if I don't know I can’t tell’ replied Terry. ‘I take it you want it kept quiet, yes?’

‘Cheers mate, can you sort me out several spare clips and a box of ammo?’ Terry looked at Charlie who just grinned back at him. ‘Here you go, try not to lose it it makes the pen-pushers and number crunchers very twitchy if we can’t account for every last round. Do you want me to set up the 25m range for you along with the killing room so you can get a feel for it?

‘Yeah please, wouldn’t do to be caught out if it pulls high and left especially in a contact.’

Charlie followed Terry down to the indoor range and loaded half a dozen magazines while Terry set up the targets. As Terry left to set up the killing room, Charlie pulled on a pair of ear defenders and loaded the first magazine into the unfamiliar pistol then tucked it into the waistband of the jeans to recreate drawing the weapon out on the streets. After forty five minutes on the range and in the killing house Charlie was confident of what to expect if forced to use the Browning out on the streets. Charlie put the safety on, after having made sure there was one up the spout, placed the pistol in the rucksack and walked back to the ops room to wait for Simon. 

 

Friday 31 August 1973

Simon checked out one of the Q cars and pulled up side on outside the port-a-cabins with the rear door nearest the buildings open to allow Charlie to slide into the footwell without being seen by anyone. As Simon pulled up to the gates of the inner compound he flicked a switch located in the footwell and de-activated the electrics that operated the rear lights, all the Q cars had this modification to allow the driver to make covert pickups and drop offs at night. The quarters assigned to the Det were contained deep within the sprawling Holywood Barracks complex on the east of the city and as a result was well protected from the random attacks that other smaller bases around the city were regularly subjected to. Such was the secrecy surrounding 14 Company the majority of the regular Army were unaware of it’s existence and rarely had cause to come into contact with an operator, unless called upon to collect or dispose of any bodies encountered in a contact. Those who served on attachment to 14 Company were duty bound not reveal any information about their time on secondment so there was much speculation about the mysterious inner compound at Holywood, along with the shadowy figures involved in some of killings on the streets of Belfast. Rumours had first started when the MRF was introduced in late 1971 that there were rogue killers on the streets and the killings were attributed to both republican and loyalist factions, which suited those tasked with the responsibility of infiltrating the hardline estates. 

The ride to the docks proved to be uneventful and Charlie, still out of sight in the rear footwell of the car, took the opportunity to check over the kit drawn from the armoury before leaving. Simon updated the other operators out maintaining the invisible net around the two Tangos as to his route and destination, as per standard procedure when any of them left the confines of Holywood. Charlie lay on the floor keeping an ear on what was happening out on the ground and started planning where and when Duffy would make an appearance. As Simon approached Sailortown the traffic started to increase, especially the number of lorries heading for the docks in time to catch the first sailing to the mainland. Eventually Simon indicated to Charlie that they had arrived at the ferry port and he began to search for a secluded place that would allow Charlie to exit the vehicle without being observed. Finally the car stopped and Simon got out and held the rear door open and leaned in to collect his wallet from the coat on the back seat, thereby giving Charlie an opportunity to slip out and make for the arrivals area. Satisfied that Charlie had made it to the terminal building without being seen Simon locked the car, walked over to the burger van and bought a cup of tea. Simon stood by the van and waited for Charlie to re-appear from the terminal to catch the bus into the city, constantly on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary. 

Fifteen minutes after being dropped off Charlie wandered out of the arrivals hall, having changed tops in the toilets and joined the queue waiting for the bus that ran between the ferry port and the city centre. When the bus arrived Charlie managed to get a seat at the back and sat down to watch the scenery go by and observe the other passengers. The people on the bus were the usual mix of families and crew finishing for the week, heading home or to visit relatives in the city; nobody took any notice of the tall dark haired person at the back of the bus watching the world go by. All the while Charlie was watching the people and the rundown streets passing by, the Operator was being constantly updated with what was happening further west in and around Turf Lodge, mentally placing both the team and the Tangos in their various locations. Kevin and his team had taken over eyeball of the Tangos and Simon was making his way to add to the watchers. Charlie still had a sense of unease about this particular tasking, the two Tangos would be a major coup for the Det if they could take them without causing any collateral damage but given the fact that they were both slippery bastards that would be unlikely. The sooner Charlie was able to collect the bike and get Duffy out on the streets, in areas that the others would be immediately be pinged, the better. The bus finally arrived at Great Victoria Street at the same time the bus for Turf Lodge pulled into the station. Charlie grabbed the rucksack and ran across the station in time to board the Turf Lodge bus before it left. Again Charlie managed to get a seat right at the back – the bus was almost empty since most people were heading into the city not out of it and it was still too early for the onslaught of school children. As the bus made it’s way along Springfield Road towards Turf Lodge Charlie looked out at the rundown streets of terraced houses, many blocked by the every present barricades and tried to make sense of the mentality that set Irishman against Irishman. Even though Charlie had lived in the city as a child it had taken the family rift as a result of joining the British Army for the Operator to fully understand the depth of hatred towards the British and the desire to create a separate Republic. Charlie’s parents were both dead and the only family that spoke to the Operator were the Duffy’s still living in Belfast - they believed that Charlie was involved with one or other of the hardline factions in the city and Charlie did nothing to discourage the belief. 

Charlie got off at the junction of Whiterock Road and started the walk down to Glenalina Road conscious of the constant flow of children heading for the primary school at the top of the road; it seemed that at times the Operator was the only adult walking against the flow. Charlie was aware of the ever present dickers looking out for obvious strangers to the area, their presence did not overly concern the Operator since Duffy was a regular visitor to Turf Lodge and would have already been checked out before setting foot off the bus. Duffy was a complex character and Charlie had worked hard over the last couple of years to create the persona of the brash bike riding sympathiser who was not afraid to be seen in the toughest estates of West Belfast and the confidence was easily seen in the way the Operator moved around the area. As Charlie was approaching Mrs Callaghan’s in Glenalina Road the ever present voices on the invisible net alerted the Operator that Tangos 1 and 2 were both mobile and believed to be heading towards the Bullring. Charlie mentally pictured the routes that the two Tangos would take, along with their respective tails and also who was on foot and where. Charlie knocked on Mrs Callaghan’s door and muttering a quick apology grabbed the heavy leather jacket, checking that the bike keys were in the pocket, pulled it on and turned and left. As Charlie made for the garage at the rear of the property the Operator pulled the Browning out of the rucksack and tucked it into the waistband of the jeans. The bike started on the first attempt and Charlie pulled on the helmet and adjusted the rucksack then pulled out into the rear alley.

‘Mike 1 mobile on Green 1 heading Black’ said Charlie pulling out on to Glenalina Road.

‘Morning Charlie, glad to have you on board’ said Kevin who was driving Delta 2 ‘what’s your eta at Black?’

‘Ten minutes tops, am mobile in light traffic, might be a bit less depending on whether I need to divert.’

‘Lima 2, I have eyeball on Tango 1 heading east on Brown 1, still heading Black’ said Dave.

‘Kilo 2, I have eyeball on Tango 2 heading south on White 1, again heading Black’ said Mike.

‘Anyone able to go foxtrot in the immediate area?’ asked Charlie.

‘Unfortunately not Charlie, we had other possibles covered but this meet looks like a new one, so we’re playing catch up. Any ideas of where they might be going when they get to Black?’ asked Kevin.

‘Maybe, give me a mo just got to deal with something’ said Charlie slowing down to negotiate one of the numerous barricades hastily thrown up in the streets of the estates. ‘Bear with me, going off net for five.’ Charlie cut the transmissions to the rest of the team in order to speak to the youths manning the barricade.

‘Duffy, is that you?’ asked one of the youths as the Operator lifted the visor on the helmet to allow identification.

‘Davey, what are you doing out here? Does your mam know where you are?’ replied Charlie recognising one of the numerous younger Duffy clan who were scattered all over Ballymurphy.

‘Of course she does’ said Davey with bravado. ‘Where you going? When did you get home?’

‘Pull the other one Davey, I know you should be in college, your mam’ll have your hide when she finds out what you’re up to. Now get on home or you’ll have me to deal with and I’ll make sure you won’t forget what’s important by the time I’ve finished. And as for where I’m going you know better than to start asking questions about things that don’t concern you. Now scram!’

Davey looked sheepishly at his cousin on the big powerful bike and tried to hide his embarrassment at having asked such a stupid question – everyone knew what Duffy was up to but it didn’t do to ask direct questions. Davey realised that the others were watching the exchange with wide eyes and he squared his shoulders ‘I’m not scared of youse Duffy, I’m just asking you just the same as anyone else.’

‘Ah, but I’m not just anyone am I Davey, I’m family so where’s your respect?’

‘Sorry, Duffy’ said Davey as he nodded to the others to let the Operator pass through the barricade.

Charlie looked at Davey and inwardly cursed the obvious influence that Duffy had had on the lad – at sixteen Davey was destined to spend the rest of his life, which was likely to be depressingly short, caught up in the mayhem and slaughter that typified life in Belfast. Sometimes Charlie hated the job and the lies the Operator was forced to live by. Pulling away from the youths on the barricade Charlie switched the hidden microphone back on. 

‘Kev, been thinking about the meet, there’s nowhere that immediately springs to mind. I’m five minutes out, will take a closer look round.’

‘Heads up Tango1 has stopped on Brown 1 and has picked up an unidentified male, Tom has gone foxtrot to confirm identity. Wait, wait, wait Tango 2 has arrived and decamped into same vehicle as Tango 1 and unidentified male’ called Dave.

‘Unidentified male believed to be James ‘Bimbo’ O’Rawe’ came the quiet voice of Tom. ‘Lima 2 are you able to collect me from the news agents on the corner of Brown 1 and Mauve 2?’

‘Yes, yes.’

‘I have eyeball of Tangos 1 and 2 still heading east on Brown 1’ confirmed Mike. ‘Anyone able to take over as I’m still heading south?’

‘Delta 2 now has eyeball, confirmed still heading east’ said Kev. ‘Mike 1 what’s your eta at Black?’

‘Now complete Lima 2’ confirmed Tom.

‘Have just arrived. Bravo, I need a Vengeful check on the following – brown Vauxhall Viva, registration AIL7604.’

‘Wait one’ came the clam voice of Simon who was back at base.

All the operators listened to the exchange of information as they converged on the Bullring trying to keep one step ahead of the Tangos in attempt to get someone out on foot to tail the men if they decided to ditch the car.

‘Am foxtrot on White 1 approaching Black from the north’ Sue announced.

‘Copy that’ replied Charlie.

‘Bravo to Mike 1, AIL7604 confirmed Vauxhall Viva, brown, keeper shown as Frank Duffy, no reports lost or stolen, acknowledge.’

‘Acknowledged’ replied Charlie. Shit thought the Operator as the bike slowed down as it entered the Bullring, it looked like they were going to be faced with four Tangos not two as it became apparent that Frank Duffy wasn’t here to admire the scenery. Frank Duffy was a minor player and was not usually known to associate with the likes of Bryson and Mulvenna, it was apparent that things had taken an unexpected turn. ‘Am complete at Black any others able to join me apart from Sue?’

‘No, still have eyeball on Tangos 1 and 2 but should be complete at Black in five’ said Kevin.

‘Lima 2 stuck in traffic on Brown 1.’

‘Kilo 2 just approaching Green 3 and White 1.’

‘Juliet 2 approaching Black on Brown 3.’

The net was closing in but not fast enough and Charlie realised that unless one of the others could drop someone off soon then it would be down to Charlie and Sue to contain the situation. Sue was one of the operators who was on their first tour but what from what Charlie had seen she had the makings of a good operator. 

‘Bravo can you confirm the location of our friendlies?’

‘Friendlies have covert observation post over-looking Black. Do you wish me to advise of your situation, Mike 1?’

‘Not yet Bravo, will advise if back-up required. Mike 1 now foxtrot at Black.’ Charlie found a parking space, turned the engine off and sat for a moment on the bike watching the Bullring trying to place Sue as she entered from the bottom of Whiterock Road. Sue was carrying a large shoulder bag which Charlie knew would concealed an MP5K on a quick release sling under the long cardigan and would be handy if none of the others arrived before things got hot. Pulling the helmet off Charlie looked round to see if Tango 4 was still sat in the Viva and also to see if there were any other known players in the vicinity.

‘Tango 4 complete in Victor 3, no other players seen.’

‘Acknowledged’ came the replies from Simon and the others. 

‘Delta 2 can you confirm which Victor our Tangos are in?’

‘Green Hillman registration AIK1675.’

‘Yes, yes’ replied Charlie, looking round the Bullring trying to decide where the best position would be to observe the meet that was looking more and more likely. Sue was stood in front of a newsagents apparently paying attention to the adverts pinned up in the window, whilst in reality watching the reflections. Charlie climbed off the bike and started to walk slowly across the junction of Whiterock Road and the Bullring checking to see if Victor 1 was in sight. As the Operator reached the traffic island in the middle of the road the green Hillman passed Charlie and made a slow circuit of the Bullring. Charlie carried on across the road and started to walk towards the two cars that were by now parked one in front of the other and out of the corner of one eye was aware of Sue moving away from the newsagents. Kevin drove past the Tangos and found a parking space on the opposite side of the Bullring and was in the process of locking the car just as Tom strolled out of Glenalina Road and Mike appeared from an alley. None of the operators acknowledged each other by sight but the net was being constantly updated as they began to tighten the cordon inside the Bullring.

‘Lima 2 is stop, stop, stop at the rear of the parade’ said Dave.

‘Juliet 2 is stop, stop, stop in the car park at the rear of the Odeon’ confirmed Ruth ‘can go foxtrot if required.’

‘All callsigns this is Bravo, please advise if you require friendly assistance?’

‘Bravo that’s a negative, I repeat, negative at this point. Mike 1 it’s your call – how do you want to play this?’ Kevin was effectively handing control of the next phase to Charlie.

‘All callsigns this is Mike 1, listen for my call, no one is to try and approach Victor 3 or make a move without my authority, please acknowledge.’

‘Delta 2, acknowledged.’

‘Lima 2, acknowledged.’

‘Juliet 2, acknowledged.’

‘Sue, acknowledged.’

‘Tom, acknowledged.’

‘Mike, acknowledged.’

‘All callsigns this is Bravo, confirming that Mike 1 has control of the net, no one is to engage the Tangos without Mike 1’s say so. Over to you Charlie, stay safe. Bravo listening.’

Charlie stopped for a moment and carefully ran over the mental map showing which operator was where and who had what hardware to hand.

‘Sue, can you meet Delta 2 in the alley at the rear of the derelict cafe?’

‘Yes, yes.’

Charlie stood and watched as the two operators disappeared from sight, Kevin would be be collecting the MP5K from Sue and adjusting the sling to suit. The whole change over had taken less than two minutes as both operators were used to carrying out such actions and had practised the manoeuvre numerous times until it was almost second nature. As soon as Sue and Kevin re-appeared Charlie pulled on the helmet and climbed back on the to bike and started the engine ready to move in and support the others. 

‘Mike 1 Delta 2 I now have eyeball, all callsigns wait for my call.’ Kevin walked slowly past Charlie and gave a subtle nod, then carried on towards Victor 3. As Kevin approached Victor 3 Bryson, Mulvenna and O’Rawe climbed out of the Hillman and moved towards the brown Vauxhall Viva. Suddenly as the three men were just about to get into the car something seemed to spook Frank Duffy and he shouted to the others and started the engine.

‘Stop, put your hands were I can see them’ screamed Kevin, opening the his jacket and releasing the MP5K ran towards the car. ‘Turn off the engine and step out of the car!’ As Kevin ran towards the car Charlie could see Bryson reaching down into the front passenger footwell. ‘Hands above your heads or I’ll shoot!’ Kevin tried to give the men in the car adequate warning, as per the rules of engagement, but none of the men seemed to hear what was being shouted at them. As Kevin lifted the MP5K and took aim Tom ran towards the front of the vehicle and suddenly the Operator’s world contracted down to just the car and its occupants. Time seemed to slow as Charlie stopped the bike in front of the Vauxhall to prevent it driving off. Charlie left the engine running and drew the Browning as the Operator climbed off the bike. Charlie was an imposing figure in the leather jacket and helmet with the Browning in hand. As Kevin and Tom shouted at Frank Duffy to get out Charlie approached the passenger door and Tom approached the driver’s door and as he made to open it there was the crack of a gun shot from the rear seat and Tom fell back clutching a hand to his stomach. Kevin slipped the fire selector to auto and applied pressure to the trigger whilst screaming over the net ‘Bravo this is Delta 2 we have contact, repeat we have contact, man down, contact friendlies for assistance.’ Out of the corner of one eye Kevin was aware of Charlie dragging Tom away from the car. Kevin opened fire and in slow motion watched as the bullets punched a line of holes along the side of the Vauxhall Viva, those in the rear of the vehicle did not stand a chance. Bryson, who was in the front passenger seat opened the door and started to turn towards Kevin gun aimed at the Operator. Charlie swung round and fired a double tap at Bryson and watched him fall to the ground. The contact had lasted less than a minute and other than Tom there appeared to be no collateral damage. Kevin leaned into the rear of the car and Charlie heard his voice over the net.

‘Bravo this Delta 2 confirm Tango 2 dead and Tango 1 wounded, request ambulance. Tangos 3 and 4 detained. One operator wounded. Request friendly assistance to deal with detainees and clear up.’

‘Received Delta 2, ambulance en-route. Delta 2 can you remain on plot to liaise with friendly commander?’

‘Yes, yes’ replied Kevin busy re-attaching the MP5K to the sling as those not directly involved in the contact made themselves scarce as was the norm. Sue was busy performing first aid on Tom whilst waiting for the ambulance as the first of the Royal Green Jackets arrived and cuffed ‘Bimbo’ O’Rawe and Frank Duffy.

‘Well,’ said Charlie to Kevin ‘that didn’t go exactly to plan did it? What the fuck happened?’

‘Something spooked Frank, I don’t fucking know what but something did. You heard me warn them I can’t be responsible if they suddenly went deaf – it was a legit contact! Get going things are going to be a bit hot round here, leave me to deal with it, the bike will ping Vengeful and maybe that will be enough to placate our friendlies, if I need back up I’ll call it’ said Kevin as Charlie climbed back on to the bike. Charlie took one look at the carnage and gunned the bike across the Bullring, hoping to be away before anyone could identify the mysterious stranger. 

‘Bravo this is Mike 1 am on Green 1 leaving Black heading back. Do you wish me to come in or can it wait?’

‘You’d better put yourself about a bit Mike 1, see what the natives are saying, I’ll expect you when you can get free. Bravo listening.’

‘Acknowledged, Mike 1 listening.’

Wednesday 30 April 1980

 

The next morning one ex-Sergeant Bodie was pacing backwards and forwards in front of George Cowley’s desk like a caged animal.

‘I don’t like this Sir, one little bit, there’s too much that is outside our control!’

‘Och sit down lad, you’ll wear a hole in the floor’ said Cowley. ‘Something’s bothering you about this operation, so what is it?’

‘Why has this been given to us rather than MI5 since it concerns the Irish, Sir? Also can you tell me why Sergeant Price is involved?’

‘Sergeant Price comes highly recommended and has been specifically chosen for this, you don’t need to know anymore about this operation other than what is in the file. You’ve worked together before I believe?’

‘Yeah, last time was that joint SAS op three years ago in Belfast or should I say that monumental cock-up. Charlie and I have known each other for about ten years but we haven’t been in contact for the last three years.’  
‘I understand things didn’t go according to plan.’

‘That would be a massive understatement to say the least, not a lot was had from it at the end of the day – a bloody good soldier in hospital and the one’s who did it running loose thumbing their noses at us, while causing death and mayhem, all in the name of freedom! Makes me sick to the stomach when I think of what damage that cock-up caused! I presume that is what this is all about Sir?’ 

‘This has come directly from the Minister. Whatever your personal feelings are in regard to this you will keep them to yourself, do I make myself clear 3.7?’

‘Yes Sir. What about Willis’s mob?’

‘The Minister has made it very clear to Willis to keep out of this. By the way that file needs to back in this office this afternoon, has Doyle read it yet?’

‘No not yet, I was about to go and find him and let him read it.’

‘Well you better let him have a good look then, hadn’t you!’

‘Running all the way Sir.’

‘Don’t forget that Sergeant Price is due here later – I want both you and Doyle back here in time for the meeting.’

‘We’ll be here, Sir.’

Bodie left the Controller’s office and headed off to try and locate his partner so that they could look over the scant information contained in the file. Bodie had serious misgivings regarding the forthcoming operation – there was precious little in the file other than a detailed breakdown of Duffy’s movements over the last six months and the names of the targets. 14 Company were as usual playing their cards tight to their chest and there was nothing in the file that could be called concrete, in fact it was the typical smoke and mirrors that Bodie remembered from combined ops over the water. As Bodie stood outside the rest room listening to the usual banter his thoughts turned back to last time he had worked with Charlie and the fact that nothing had really been achieved at the end of the operation. Very few of the others had come across 14 Company, even those with military backgrounds, apart from himself and possibly Murphy who had seen service in Northern Ireland around the same time as Bodie - it was a subject that neither of them discussed as it evoked too many dangerous memories. 

Bodie was still standing outside the rest room when Doyle appeared a few minutes later.

‘What gives mate, why are you lurking out here?’

‘This’ said Bodie thrusting the file at his partner. ‘This…..thing that has been dumped on us – read it and tell me what you think. There’s something not right with this op, it should have gone to Willis’ mob but for some reason it’s been handed to us like we should be grateful!’

‘That bad? What’s the problem then, is it this Sergeant?’

‘Charlie Price? No Charlie’s good, it’s what’s not in the file that worries me and the fact that Willis is going to be screaming blue murder at not getting in on the act even though this has come direct from the Minister. Read it and then tell if you know what the hell it’s all about – I’m damned sure I don’t understand why we’ve been landed with it.’

Doyle stood in the corridor clutching the file that Bodie had thrust at him and shook his head as he watched his partner disappear down the stairs. Over the course of their partnership the two men had come to rely on each other’s sixth sense and Doyle wondered what the file contained to set Bodie’s alarm bells ringing. The more Doyle read the scant file the more he began to share his partner’s misgivings. If everything went according to plan, if the combined operations in the UK and Ireland came off then it might just see an end to the current unrest that was brewing but as with any operation concerning the Irish things could easily get, quite literally, blown out of all proportion. There were a lot of ifs involved and as far as Doyle was concerned, too much that was out of everyone’s control.

Bodie found Doyle sitting in their office, the file still open in front of him. Bodie pulled up a chair and shuffled the pages around before returning them to the folder.

‘So what do you make of this…..mess? Do you have any idea why it’s landed on our doorstep?’

Doyle looked at Bodie and noticed that the younger man seemed unusually tense. 

‘I can see what you mean about Willis wanting to get his hands on this - it’s right up his street along with the spooks from Thames House. As to why we’ve been given the dubious honours - I haven't a clue mate, unless someone specifically requested a certain set of skills and one of our happy band met the criteria.’

‘What you think they were looking for someone who’s been involved in this sort of thing before? You’ve got to be kidding mate, there’s plenty of other people who’ve done work with or for 14 Company. There must be plenty of people at Thames House who’d love to get out on the streets over here.’

‘Thing is Bodie, they may have worked alongside 14 Company but how many of them have actually worked on the streets doing what we or they do? Most of the spooks wouldn’t have a clue - you’ve met them, half the time they can’t tell one end of a gun from the other, in fact they’re a danger to themselves and the public. I can see why the Minister gave this to Cowley – we’re used to working in the shadows, even more so than Willis’ mob and we’ve got the experience because we recruit across the board. The closest the Police and Special Branch get to the Irish is when it all goes wrong - you and Murphy have seen it first hand.’  
‘Strictly keeping the peace – you know my feelings on the subject its’s not something I want to talk about. I still say this should have gone to Willis, we shouldn’t be getting involved in this at all, I’ve seen how these things end up.’

‘What do you mean? How much do you know about this type of op?’

‘I’ve done some work alongside 14 Company and I know how they operate, the mission is the most important thing, people are expendable in their eyes’ replied Bodie suddenly standing up and grabbing the file. ‘Right time we were moving, Cowley’s expecting us to be there to form the welcoming committee for Sergeant Price.’  
‘So what do you know about this 14 Company?’

‘Look Doyle, this isn’t the time or place to start this discussion, I’m not getting drawn into it now maybe later ok?’

‘Ok, ok don’t bite my head off I was only asking if you’ve been involved in this sort of thing before, if you don't want to talk about it fine but remember we’ve got to work with this Charlie Price!’

‘Leave it Doyle, I’ve already had the keep your personal feelings to yourself lecture from Cowley so don't worry I’m not about to blow this op because of what’s happened in the past. I might not like what we’re being asked to do or how we’ve got to do things but you know that the job comes first no matter what!’ 

Wednesday 30 April 1980

 

Just before two thirty the powerful black motor bike pulled up outside the nondescript building that currently housed CI5. Charlie checked that no-one was following – the bike had its advantages when it came to losing a tail. Satisfied Charlie parked the bike and sat for a moment, looking at the building, wondering about what it would be like to work for CI5. Charlie was under no illusions that one day Duffy would no longer be of use to the powers that be and that a change of career would become necessary, maybe CI5 could provide the thrill Charlie still craved. Charlie climbed off the bike and stretched out the kinks that had formed on the journey down, it had been quite a while since Charlie had ridden the bike farther than to base and as a result was aware of several protesting muscles and other aches. Removing the leather gloves and helmet Charlie entered the building and reported to the man on the desk, identification in hand. ‘Sergeant Price, I believe Major Cowley is expecting me?’

‘Yes Sergeant, if you’ll just sign here I’ll find someone to show you up.’

Whilst the desk man was busy on the telephone Charlie duly signed in and took to pacing impatiently round the foyer. A few minutes later Charlie heard someone running down the stairs.

‘Sergeant Price?’

‘Yes’ replied Charlie, turning round to see a lithe curly haired man standing waiting. As Charlie bent down to retrieve the bike helmet, the man continued ‘Ray Doyle. We’ll take the back stairs, the lift is rather unpredictable and you never know who you might bump into also given the nature of this job Cowley has decided to try and keep you away from the general population.’

Charlie laughed ‘I could always put this back on, if you like, to save my ugly mug being observed’ gesturing to the helmet dangling from a strong hand. 

‘No I don’t think that’s a good idea – you might well get taken for a hit-man, although not that many of them get past Harry here’ chuckled Doyle. ‘I’m Bodie’s partner by the way, he sent me to collect you.’  
Charlie stopped, suddenly radiating tension ‘Is he here?’ Doyle turned back to look properly at the figure in front of him. The black leather jacket and trousers fitted like a second skin, accentuating Charlie’s solid muscular frame however it was the striking blue eyes warily regarding him that caught his attention. Looking closely Doyle realised how much facially Charlie reminded him of Bodie – both exhibited a strong Irish heritage with their blue eyes and dark hair. 

Doyle paused, ‘Yeah he’s waiting with the old man’ wondering why Charlie suddenly seemed on edge at the mention of Bodie’s name. He took a closer look at Charlie and realised that what he had at first thought was wariness was in fact tiredness in the Operator’s eyes. 

‘Sounds like Bodie hasn’t changed much then, he always managed to find someone else to do the leg work if he could. How long have you two known each other?’ asked Charlie casually.

‘We’ve been partners for five years, so probably since before you last worked with him.’ 

‘Yeah, probably. What did you do before CI5?’

‘Was in the Met, did some time in Vice and then ended up in the Drug Squad’ replied Doyle. ‘Caused a bit of a stir before I left but luckily this came along at the right time otherwise I’d have been out on my ear.’  
‘So what’s your Major Cowley like then?’ asked Charlie as they carried on up the stairs.

‘Tough, canny, cagey’ Doyle said thinking ‘but a good boss for all that.’ They carried on up another flight of stairs and along a corridor stopping outside an office where they could hear a woman talking on the telephone. Betty spotted them and waved them in, putting her hand over the mouthpiece to tell Doyle to go on in. Doyle opened the door to Cowley’s office, ‘Sergeant Price, Sir’ he said as he followed Charlie in.

Charlie stepped into the room, came to a halt and saluted smartly, vaguely aware of someone stood off to one side.

‘Relax, Sergeant Price,’ said Cowley ‘there’s no need for that here.’ Cowley watched as Charlie relaxed, taking in the biker’s leathers and helmet. ‘You know Bodie here and I see you’ve already met Doyle.’

‘Yes Sir’ Charlie nodded to Bodie refusing to make eye contact.

‘Price’ came the stiff reply. Doyle watched the exchange with interest, curious as to the tension flowing between the two of them; this could be interesting he thought, both of them seemed to be as thick skinned and unyielding as each other. Doyle was again stuck by the similarities between the two of them, noting that both of them seemed uncomfortable in each other’s presence, maybe it was just the upcoming op but he felt that there was much more to the strained atmosphere than just that.

‘Right, let’s get down to business. Sergeant Price have you made yourself familiar with your accommodation yet?’

‘No, Sir, I’ve only just arrived. I took my time on the way down, stayed in a B&B last night and drove the rest of the way this morning. Before I get settled there are a few things I’d like to get straight with Bodie and Doyle, Sir. I need some time to talk things through with them before I make contact with the target, if that’s alright Sir?’

‘Yes, go ahead. Do you have any questions with regard to our role in this Sergeant?’

‘No Sir, I understand that CI5 will provide whatever man power is required.’

‘Right then, you better collect the keys to your flat from Betty on the way out. Any contact will be through these two, do you understand?’

‘Yes Sir’ Charlie replied. ‘No direct contact with you or my CO.’

Charlie followed Doyle and Bodie out of Cowley’s office, stopping to collect the keys to the flat that had been allocated for the operation, which Charlie knew was in the same area as the Derry Arms, the meeting place between the fixer and Malone.

‘Where can we talk?’ asked Charlie, looking round for somewhere private.

‘Here?’ suggested Doyle.

‘Nah, too many gawkers, better off at your place mate’ said Bodie.

Doyle sighed ‘Why mine?’

‘Because it’s the nearest and you’ve got a lock-up, we can keep Charlie’s bike out of sight there.’  
‘Actually that’s a good idea, you can drive’ replied Doyle tossing Bodie the car keys. ‘You ok following us?’  
‘Yeah, what car you driving?’

‘Silver Capri.’

Charlie pulled on the bike helmet and followed the two agents out to the car park. Doyle let out a whistle as he watched Charlie walk up to the black Moto Guzzi Lemans 850, ‘I didn’t expect Charlie to turn up on a bike.’  
Bodie grinned at Doyle ‘Told you Charlie was a little unconventional. Only time I’ve seen Charlie use anything else other than a bike is a Land Rover around base. Charlie’s had bikes for as long as we’ve known each other, the bigger and faster they are the more Charlie likes them, not seen that one though.’

‘So tell me more about Sergeant Price, by that I mean what isn’t in the file’ said Doyle as he slid into the passenger seat of the Capri.

‘The first time Charlie and I met must have been early ’71 in Belfast. Charlie was undercover, I mean deep undercover, as Charlie Duffy, not the sort of time and place to become best mates if you get my drift.’

‘Undercover, in Belfast? What do you mean?’

‘I later found out that Charlie was seconded to a shadowy unit called MRF who were tasked with black ops in Northern Ireland and part of their brief was infiltration of the hardline estates in West Belfast. Duffy had been involved in a contact, the Paras were called in to deal with the clean up as per normal operating procedures. MRF later became the Specialist Army Intelligence Unit, 14 Intelligence Company, after a couple of their undercover operations were blown. An elite unit drawn from all services, men and women, no set rank structure, highly trained and on a par with the SAS. 14 Company carried on with black ops in Ireland, on a strictly need to know basis. I never found out what exactly Charlie’s brief was. Very few of our guys have heard of Operators, hell, I didn’t find out about them until later in the SAS. Charlie’s good, very good at the job, as is Duffy.’ 

‘How well do you know Price?’

Bodie thought carefully for a moment ‘We’ve kept in touch, off and on, and worked together on joint ops over the water, but I’ve not seen Charlie for three years – last time was in Belfast, badly injured in the back of a helicopter, I don’t know what Charlie’s been doing since then. All Operators have a four man SAS patrol assigned to extricate them in the event of a snatch, it’s standard operating procedure in Ireland. Unfortunately the patrol tasked with Charlie’s safety had been sent to assist with a bombing at a roadside checkpoint.’ Bodie looked away, a haunted look in the blue eyes. ‘There’s not much to say about Charlie Price the person – a loner but that said a bloody good soldier, pretty much SAS standard thanks to being an Operator.’ Doyle looked at Bodie, surprised at the respect that his partner seemed to have for Sergeant Price, however he got the impression that Bodie knew a lot more than he was prepared to let on. Bodie carried on ‘A lot of Operators either died over there on the job or....’ he left his answer hanging.

‘Or were tracked down and disposed of I suppose’ finished Doyle.

Bodie looked up ‘yeah something like that. Charlie’s been very lucky, able to slip back into ‘normal’ army life but you never know who’s out there, that’s what worries me.’ 

‘So it’s our job to try and stop that happening then.’

Fifteen minutes later Doyle jumped out of the Capri in front of a battered looking lock up, unlocked the double doors and motioned Charlie in. Charlie parked the sleek black bike next to a trials bike and the frame of an old Norton.

‘Yours?’

‘Yeah, never seem to get the time to finish it though, need another pair of hands’ he said pointing at Bodie ‘this one’s all talk and not enough action, keen to ride ‘em but not so keen on getting his hands dirty!’

Charlie laughed as Bodie glared at his partner then grinned. ‘You got a screwdriver handy?’ asked Charlie ‘I need to change this’ pointing to the number plate.

‘Yeah, hang on a minute’ Doyle opened up a tool box and rummaged around for a minute ‘this do?’

‘Cheers’ Charlie took the proffered screwdriver and started removing the number plate from the rear of the Moto Guzzi.

‘Nice bike’ said Doyle ‘bet it moves. You been riding long?’

‘Been riding since before I joined up, suits my life style. Bought this about a year ago, decided to splash out, don’t get much chance to spend it in this mob. Let’s just say it keeps up with the traffic well enough, with plenty in reserve if I need it’ replied Charlie grinning. ‘There’s another plate tucked in the top of the holdall, pass it over will you?’ Charlie made short work of attaching the Irish registration plate. ‘Fancy a run out some time?’

‘How ‘bout day after tomorrow, give you a chance to settle in, get things sorted?’

‘You’re on.’

‘Come on Ray, man could die of thirst out here’ said Bodie knowing the other two would be out there for hours talking bikes if he didn’t speak up.

Doyle led the way into the flat and made to put the kettle on ‘Coffee alright?’

‘Yeah fine, nice flat you’ve got here. Anywhere I can spread out some papers?’

‘Yeah over there, use that small coffee table.’

‘Ta.’ Charlie removed the rucksack and bikers jacket, dropping them on the floor. Out from the rucksack came a map and several sheets of handwritten notes. ‘Right let’s get started. Bodie you’re my contact, right?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Ok,’ Charlie spread the map out on the table, several of the streets were highlighted in various colours. ‘You remember this?’

Bodie leant over the map. ‘Yeah, it’s like the ones that used to hang on the wall at Holywood. Don't tell me you expect us to learn that, before tomorrow, you’ve got to be kidding! As you might have guessed Doyle this is one of Charlie’s hangovers from Belfast.’

‘You got a problem Bodie?’ asked Charlie looking up from the papers, suddenly aware of the atmosphere in the room.

‘Yeah plenty, where do you want me to start…..’ he replied.

‘Hang on a minute mate, Charlie’s only….’ said Doyle.

‘Keep out of this, this is between me and Charlie. You think you can waltz in here, telling us how to do our job without giving us all the details expecting us to be at your beck and call, protecting your back from fuck knows who…..’

Charlie jumped up from the table, fists clenched. ‘Do you want me to pull seniority on you Bodie? You know the drill, the man on the inside sets the op, I’m going one-up here and it’s my arse on the line!’

‘So we’re merely the protection detail, is that all we’re good for? How many times have I had to step in and save that skinny arse of yours in the past?’

‘What like last time? You weren’t much help then or have you forgotten about that? Oh yeah, I remember now, you fucked up big time didn’t you? Not only that you couldn’t be bothered to stay and see the results of your fuck up could you, no you ran away from the mess you’d caused!’

‘Look Price, you never gave me a chance to put my side across, oh no you shut me out on the heli….’

What Bodie had been about to say was cut short as he was thrown backwards and on to the floor as a vicious left hook connected squarely with his jaw. Bodie picked himself up, glared at Charlie, turned on his heel and stormed out of the flat. Doyle watched in amazement as Charlie stood there breathing hard, hands still clenched into fists, a myriad of emotions playing across the Operator’s face.

Wednesday 30 April 1980

 

The setting sun turned the Tower of London a dusky pink with its final dying rays as Captain Peter Skellen regarded the muddy waters of the Thames flowing indolently under Tower Bridge, carrying with it the detritus of the capital. Standing with hands in the pockets of his overcoat, the SAS Captain wondered why he had been sent the coded message requesting a meet now, having had no contact with the sender for at least a year, however he had a shrewd idea what it was about. Some inbuilt sixth sense alerted him to the approach of someone and turning, hand reaching for the Browning under his left arm, he saw the tall dark man causally walk up and lean on the wall. The Captain relaxed as he recognised the other man, removed his hand from the butt of the Browning and nodded a greeting to his former Sergeant.

‘Bodie.’

‘Peter. At least commanding a desk makes you relatively easy to contact these days, field work getting too much for you?’

‘It has its exciting moments. I see you haven’t lost your knack of finding trouble.’

‘You should have seen the other guy’ grinned Bodie. ‘How’s Jenny?’

‘She’s fine but that’s not why we’re here is it? What do you want Bodie, while I’d love to talk about old times, I’m on stand-by so my time is limited.’

‘Charlie Price.’

‘Ah, I did wonder if that was what this was about.’

‘Look Peter I need to ask you some things,’ Bodie hesitated not quite sure how to phrase the questions that he needed to find the answers to. ‘I saw your name, and Nairn’s, on a file and thought you might be, how shall I put it, more amenable to telling me what I need to know.’

‘I take it that was a hello from Charlie?’

‘What do you think’ snapped Bodie rubbing at the rapidly colouring bruise beginning to darken his jaw. ‘It’s been three years Peter, I know we parted under bad circumstances but even I didn’t expect that.’

‘Have you spoken to Charlie since Belfast Bodie?’

‘Course I bloody haven’t – what could I have said to change what happened over there. Charlie made it perfectly clear on the way to the hospital that I was persona non grata so I just walked away and got on with my life. Then out of the blue an op lands on CI5’s doorstep and the powers that be, in their mighty wisdom, seem to think that Charlie and I can work together as if Belfast never happened.’

‘What are you saying Bodie?’

‘Christ Peter, do I have to spell it out for you, I don’t know if I can work with Charlie again on another op like that. That one was, well, you were there – we were hit hard on that one, Keller, Charlie and the others.’

‘And you Bodie?’ asked Peter turning his back on the river to watch the traffic building up on Tower Bridge Road signalling the start of the evening rush hour.  
‘Yes, no, I don’t know. I thought I’d put the Regiment and 14 Company behind me and then bang I get landed in this, this…’

‘You know I can't talk specifics about this op.’

‘That’s not why I contacted you, Peter. I may not be happy about this mess we’ve been landed with but I know how things work, need to know only. I contacted you to talk about Charlie. When we met earlier things seemed, I don’t know, off and no it’s not just that we haven’t seen each other in three years, it was as if Charlie Price didn’t exist anymore. I can’t explain it any better than that Peter, maybe if we had kept in touch….’

‘Off the record?’

‘Look Peter I know this is, a bit unusual, but I need to know about Charlie – there’s a lot riding on this, not just the op, you understand?’

‘Come on Bodie, you know I shouldn’t be discussing this or meeting with you for that matter, you’re outside my chain of command now. Why do you need to know about Charlie?’

‘When was the last time you saw Charlie?’ Bodie turned away from the river and for the first time looked at Skellen, seeing the hesitation on his former commanding officer’s face ‘you know me Peter, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think this was important and you wouldn’t still be here if you didn’t have doubts! When I saw Charlie’s name on the briefing I was hoping that maybe we could sort things out between us. I know I can’t change the past but I thought I could finally try and set the record straight with Charlie so maybe we can put Belfast behind us. I was hoping that we could maybe get back some of the friendship we had, it’s a long shot I know but I’ve got to try, Peter, before it’s too late, before one of us gets killed.’

‘Ok Bodie, let’s get a coffee and I’ll try to give you some of those answers you’re so desperate for.’

The two men moved away from the Embankment wall and headed for a burger bar opposite HMS Belfast. Bodie paid for two coffees and the men settled on one of the benches scattered along the waterfront.

‘All we need now is for Marty to appear with one of his customers in tow’ said Bodie, trying to lighten the mood.

‘God forbid! You’re not still in contact with him are you?’ asked Peter.

‘Of course I am, Marty is a valuable source of intel with regard to whats happening here and abroad, he’s got a finger in lots of pies. In fact he’s going to be helping out with this little deal, however I don’t want to bump into him with you. Let’s cut to the chase Peter – Charlie’s got a meet set for tomorrow so time is of the essence.’

‘You have to realise Bodie, I haven’t seen much of Charlie over the last six months or so and no I can’t say why, but the last time we got together things were relatively normal, if you can say that in our line of work, but Charlie did seem a little distracted.’

‘What do you mean fine?’

‘As you know when we got Charlie out things were bad - Charlie spent three months in hospital and nearly another six months undergoing rehab. Physically Charlie has got back to full fitness, in some respects fitter than before the op, probably as good, if not better than some of the lads in the Regiment. The last time we met up I noticed that Charlie had lost weight, quite a bit if I’m honest and it worried me. Working where I do now I’d heard rumours about the rise in the number of TWEP’s over the water amongst the middle ranks of our friends, right about the time that Duffy reappeared in Belfast. Now call me cynical but I thought the two events could be linked, so I did a bit of digging and found out that our fixer has become far more unpredictable and ruthless. Also Charlie’s drinking - a lot Bodie, more than after Belfast and I thought that was over and done with. Charlie stayed with us at the end of rehab and Jenny was worried about the drinking then - Charlie was putting away at least a bottle of scotch a day but eventually things eased off. Whenever we’ve seen each other since Charlie’s been pretty much on the wagon until this last time.’

‘Are you saying what I think you’re saying Peter?’

‘I don’t know Bodie, I don’t have access to any personal info. 14 Company wouldn’t be happy to put Charlie undercover if the psyche evaluations showed a marked deviation from the norm. Charlie’s lucky to be still doing this kind of work Bodie, especially given the strict rules laid down with regard to one up work – you know distinguishing marks, scars and tattoos - the powers that be must believe that Duffy is vital to them. However, maybe sending Charlie back to Belfast wasn’t one of their best moves - how do you think you’d cope back there after last time?’

Bodie snorted ‘You know my feelings on Belfast, Peter. You also know how these spook types put the mission over and above the operatives – as far as they are concerned we are all expendable, surely even they must be aware of the risks of Charlie being pinged. Do you think Charlie has developed a death wish Peter?’

‘Physically I would say Charlie is one of the fittest soldiers I know but mentally? I wouldn’t like to comment on the state of Charlie’s mind and I think this op could be….’ Before Skellen could complete what he had been about to say there was a sudden bleeping coming from his belt. ‘I’ve got to go Bodie, I need to get back to the office now. Keep in touch, you owe me remember. What I’ve told you goes no further. Keep you’re head down and I hope you can sort out whatever it is between you and Charlie.’

The two men stood up and as he made his way past Bodie, Peter said ‘Balloons gone up, the Counter Revolutionary Warfare Wing have just got their invitation to party. I’ll be in touch as soon as this is over, unless I see you at the party.’

‘Cheers Peter, good luck and take care’ replied Bodie to Peter’s back as he rushed along the Embankment looking for the car sent to collect him, thinking more about what his former commanding officer had left out than what had been said.

Wednesday 30 April 1980

‘Sorry, that should never have happened’ said Charlie in a shaky voice. ‘You got anything stronger than coffee?’  
‘Scotch ok?’ Doyle wasn’t quite sure what he had just witnessed. It wasn’t often someone managed to knock Bodie off his feet like that and usually he didn’t turn and walk away from such an encounter. Doyle got the distinct impression that there was a lot more to Charlie Price than met the eye. ‘What the hell was that all about?’ he demanded as he handed Charlie a glass.  
Charlie stood looking out of the window ‘Thanks.’ When the Operator turned around the mask was firmly back in place ‘That was something that has been brewing since the last time we worked together, don’t worry it won’t happen again I promise you.’  
‘Bodie won’t let it drop you know.’  
‘Yeah well I’ve dealt with his moods before. Let him sulk. Come on I didn’t hit him that hard Doyle – his ego will be more bruised than his face will be’ Charlie took a drink of the scotch. ‘He’s been on the receiving end of my temper more than once....’ Charlie suddenly stopped, realising what had almost been said. ‘Sorry, long story none of it your concern. All you need to know is Bodie will do what’s asked of him no matter what – he owes me that much. Bodie’s a soldier - he knows how to follow orders, whatever his personal feelings are, duty comes first. I’ll bet Cowley would like to do that sometimes?’ Charlie grinned at Doyle.  
‘Yeah, I could tell you a few stories about that. You were telling us about the map before’  
‘Forget the learning the map, I’ll leave it here for reference, just make sure you’re on the ball – in this game my protection is more important. I’m going one-up and I need to know my backup will be where it needs to be if I need it.’  
‘One up?’  
‘Sorry, person undercover – hang over from Belfast. Doyle can you do me a favour? Can you get my helmet rigged for comms? I need a new set in my helmet as the current one won’t patch into your net.’  
‘Yeah sure, you using the bike then?’  
‘It’s one of Duffy’s trademarks – it’s what I’ve always used when I’ve been in Belfast so to not turn up on it would look out of place.’  
‘How many times have you used Duffy as your cover?’ asked Doyle.  
‘I’ve been Charlie Duffy since I started doing this around late ’71, I’m Duffy and Duffy’s me. The only time Duffy’s been out of the picture was for about a year around three years ago but apart from that I’ve lived and breathed my cover.’  
‘How good is your cover, is anyone likely to remember Duffy over here?’  
‘It’s a bit late to worry about that now. Charlie Duffy exists – I’ve made sure of that over the years and established my reputation as a go to person. I move money, arrange deals and meetings between interested parties who can’t afford to be seen together. You name it Duffy’s the man. Duffy will work for the highest bidder, I’ve no loyalties or morals when it comes to this and I will use whatever means necessary to get a result. I’m fixer a Doyle, it’s what I do pure and simple. I can get you anything and everything you could ever want to start your own private war and more besides! You tell me what you want, I deliver. I get involved in other people’s dirty little wars and try not to get caught in the crossfire when things blow up.’ Charlie suddenly looked at Doyle ‘I’ve worked hard to create Duffy’s reputation, I’m tough and unpredictable - in fact I’ve often been referred to as that mad Irish bastard! I won't let anyone or anything get in my way, Doyle, not you, not Cowley, not my CO and certainly not Bodie. I’ve worked bloody hard to get this far, I won’t let anyone foul things up, it’s my arse on the line here! Just make sure you and CI5 don’t fuck things up for me!’  
Doyle caught his breath and got up to refill their glasses, giving himself a chance to think. Bloody hell Charlie and Bodie were so alike, both were passionate about the work they did and neither of them could contemplate failure. ‘How long you been doing this sort of thing? Bodie mentioned 14 Company when we were talking earlier.’  
Charlie took another drink of the scotch and thought before answering the question, debating how much to tell Doyle. ‘I’ve always been a bit of a rebel, able to look after myself physically and was usually in trouble, always getting into fights – I’ve got four brothers, so I know how to look after myself! My father taught me to ride bikes and shoot from a young age. The Army seemed a natural place for me so I joined up on my eighteenth birthday and since then on it’s been my family - as you can imagine, coming from an Irish family mine decided to disown me; mind you that has worked to my advantage especially in Belfast. Did my basic training and came out on top of all the physicals so I was sort of pushed towards becoming a PTI. Around ‘69 when things were starting to get a bit hot over the water, we had a visit from some bigwig in Intelligence looking for volunteers. It sounded interesting, but you know what it’s like, never volunteer for anything. Unfortunately, some bright spark decided to put my name forward anyway and the rest is history as they say. I got seconded to a specialist undercover unit in late ’71 just as I made Sergeant and then into 14 Company in ’73 - and the rest, as they say, is history.’  
Doyle watched as Charlie paced and talked, realising that Charlie literally lived and breathed the job. ‘I presume that some of the training is on a par with ours?’  
‘Yeah, to a certain degree. Operators undergo training with the SAS, such as unarmed combat, resistance to interrogation, as well as being taught aggressive and defensive driving, how to use a vehicle as a weapon, anti-ambush skills, weapons etc. After the selection process it’s a five month training course – learning everything from photography to covert surveillance, with battlefield first aid thrown in for good measure. Out of a hundred volunteers on a selection course you might end up with ten or fifteen new Operators if you’re lucky, most people don’t have the necessary skills or aptitude for undercover work.’  
‘Is it mainly undercover work or do you do other things?’  
‘It depends on the operation – you could be used as backup or be collating the intel as it comes in but most of my time has been undercover, some of the other Operators have only done short spells one up. Some people can cope with the strain of being under longer than others. Experienced Operators also get the opportunity to put newbies through hell on the selections and then try to sort them out during training. I’ve done a couple of spells of training, passing on my experience and seeing raw recruits become competent, hoping they live long enough to pass on their skills to the next intake.’  
‘How long could you be undercover for?’ asked Doyle.  
‘A normal tour can vary between 18 and 36 months but ours are only 6 months and you wouldn’t be undercover for the whole time, quite often you’ll be backup for some other poor sod or just playing back at base. There is no set pattern to how things work but usually you are on permanent duty for six weeks then four days off, six weeks on eight days off and so on throughout your tour. Each unit has three teams on an eight hour shift rotation, filling in as back-up when necessary. We can deal with almost any situation and usually only rely on the regulars or SAS if things go really pear-shaped. Every op has a four man SAS troop designated as protection detail.’  
‘How many tours have you done?’  
‘I’ve been in sixteen years and done six tours plus some work on the mainland. What’s the longest you’ve been undercover for Doyle?’  
‘About three weeks ….’  
‘Christ, you have no idea do you’ interrupted Charlie. ‘Three weeks, try three months solid with no contact with a handler, watching your back, never sure if someone had you in their sights!’  
‘How do you cope with that?’  
Charlie stopped pacing and swirled the scotch round the glass before answering ‘Personally? Compartmentalise – build walls, shut out everything but your cover and don’t let anyone get inside those walls. You keep all the contacts you make undercover totally separate from those in your other life. The safest way is to not mix business with pleasure otherwise things can go badly wrong - trust me, I know from experience and it’s not pleasant! The hardest part is letting people back in when the op is over. I’ve probably been responsible for more deaths, directly or indirectly, than even Bodie and that takes some living with, so most of the time those, events, are locked away. The best lie is one that has its base in truth - it’s easier for me as Charlie Duffy did exist before I joined up.’  
Bloody hell thought Doyle, no wonder Charlie was such an enigma – how do you live as two separate individuals?  
‘By the way can you look after these for me?’ Charlie handed over the posting letter and a wallet containing a military ID, driving licence and a permit to carry concealed weapons, all in the name of Sergeant Charlie Price ‘better not be caught carrying these around with me.’  
‘They’ll be safe here, you can have them back when this is over. What do you usually use?’  
Charlie just looked at him, one eyebrow climbing higher than the other ‘I’ve got a Browning and a PPK on me, and a knife if all else fails, standard protection in my line of work. Sometimes, depending on the op I’ll carry an MP5K on a quick release system but I’d only use that as a last resort, the Browning is reliable enough for everyday use.’  
Doyle whistled ‘Don’t you trust anyone?’  
‘Trust has got nothing to do with’ Charlie snapped. ‘In this job you learn to never leave anything to chance and never trust anyone but yourself, ask Bodie he’ll tell – look after number one. No offence Doyle, but I don’t know you from Adam and well you saw Bodie’s reaction. Not all Operators live a long and happy life! I’ve been relatively lucky so far, I intend to enjoy my pension. You place too much trust or faith in others and you might just as well shoot yourself!’  
‘So why did Bodie react the way he did when you hit him?’  
‘Fuck off Doyle and ask him. What happened in the past is between me and him, if he thinks it has any bearing on this, well it’s up to him to tell you. What happened happened and giving it light of day won’t change a thing on this op, he’ll do what he has to no matter what!’ Charlie leapt up grabbed the papers off the table, stuffed them in the rucksack and made for the bikers jacket.  
Doyle moved quickly and got to the door before Charlie, ‘Look hold on a minute, I’m not prying but I need to know if you two can work together.’  
‘Get out of my way’ Charlie growled ‘so help me Doyle I don’t want to fight you but I will if you try and stand in my way.’  
Doyle put his hands up and moved out of the way. ‘Ok, sorry I didn’t mean to get under your skin but look at it from my point of view – you two can’t keep growling at each other and dancing around whatever the problem is it needs to be sorted out now mate!’  
Charlie dropped the jacket on the floor ‘Yeah I suppose you’re right. I just need some time to settle in, I’ve only been back in country for forty eight hours so forgive me if I’m a little out of sorts. What I really need is a good run and a work out, I usually do 5 miles a day and then find some unwilling volunteer to practise on.’ Charlie slid down the wall and sat there breathing deeply leaning back against the wall, arms resting lightly on bent knees. ‘Got anymore of that scotch?’  
‘Sure. Do you want to borrow one of my spare helmets and leave yours here so I can get it sorted for you? If you fancy that run I’m free tomorrow and I’m sure we could arrange a trip to our training place if you really feel the need to let off steam.’  
‘How long will it take? You volunteering to be my sparring partner as well?’  
‘Err, I’m not sure about that’ Doyle said ‘The helmet should be done day after tomorrow.’  
‘Great, that will give me a bit of time to explore my luxurious new home’ said Charlie with a grimace. ‘I’m sorry about that outburst but sometimes Bodie can be so bloody minded and over bearing, especially when it involves this type of work.’  
‘I know what he’s like but I didn’t know how involved he’s been in this sort of thing. You say you last worked together about two or three years ago?’  
‘Yeah, closer to three.’  
‘That fits – he was in Belfast, with his old mob and when he came back he was very quiet, never let on what he’d been up to and I got the impression things didn’t go according to plan, so was that an op with you then?’  
‘Yeah,’ Charlie replied guardedly ‘but I think it’s up to him to fill in the details for you. Let’s just say I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I haven’t seen or spoken to Bodie in three years.’ Charlie rubbed at a scar running down one arm.  
Doyle looked at Charlie and began to understand some of what was gnawing away at the Operator, at least the undercover work he had done both in the Met and CI5 had been in a relatively safe environment. ‘You look all done in mate, what do you want to do? Got a spare room if you fancy a couple of hours or I can get that spare helmet and you can crash at yours. Your choice.’  
‘Thanks but I’d better be off, need to sort out a few things, like sleep, as I said I only got back a little over forty eight hours ago and haven’t stopped since. I was lead to believe that this would take a little longer to set up than it has but obviously the powers that be want things done and dusted yesterday!’ Charlie picked up the rucksack and handed the map and notes back to Doyle ‘Learn this – if things don’t pan out right I need you to know it inside and out.’  
‘I’ll look over that later.’  
Charlie pulled on the leather jacket laughing ‘You’ll do, just try and keep on top of things. What time do you fancy that run in the morning?’  
‘I’ll pick you up around eight if that’s not too early, we can go somewhere quiet and then go and find you someone to, ehm, play with.’  
‘Eight’s fine and I’ll pick up the helmet the day after when we take the bikes out with Bodie.’ Charlie followed Doyle out to the lock-up to collect the bike. Doyle watched as the brake light flashed on and off as the rider signalled and turned out of the mews. Back in the flat Doyle sat nursing his glass of scotch thinking about the events of the afternoon, in particular he wondered what had happened in Belfast three years ago and whether Charlie and Bodie could actually work together.

Wednesday 30 April 1980

 

The flat the CI5 had allocated to Charlie was one of the numerous safe-houses that the department maintained and as such was pretty basic – the one saving grace was that it was a garden flat with a gated courtyard. Charlie opened the gate and wheeled the Moto Guzzi into the tiny walled space grateful for the security and privacy it offered. Once inside the flat Charlie set the locks, pulled the curtains, stripped off the leathers and grabbing the holdall, padded into the bedroom. Placing the holdall on the bed Charlie rummaged in it pulling out a towel and wash-kit before heading into the bathroom for a long shower. Charlie stood under the stream of hot water letting it wash away the sweat from the leathers and the altercation with Bodie. All too soon the hot water ran out. Charlie wandered into the kitchenette wrapped in a tatty bath robe looking for a glass, the bottle of scotch in hand. Checking the cupboards and fridge Charlie discovered that they were stocked with enough food to last a few days, even the bread and milk were fresh. Charlie looked at the clock and was surprised to find it was past six. The fridge yielded a dozen eggs and some bacon, the cupboard a tin of beans and some bread, nothing gourmet but filling enough. Charlie put the kettle on and tidied up the kitchenette as the water boiled thinking that maybe there was time for a trip to the Derry Arms before closing time. 

Twenty minutes later, dressed in jeans, shirt and leather jacket, which concealed the holster containing the Browning, Charlie walked into the public bar of the Derry Arms. ‘Pint of Guinness’ said Charlie to the barman. Drink in hand, Charlie turned and leant against the bar taking in the mix of people in the room. Looking round, Charlie realised if you picked up the Derry Arms and moved it lock, stock and barrel to the Falls Road it wouldn’t be out of place; it was the same with any Irish ex-pat bar, even the people looked the same. Charlie felt right at home. In one corner a band was setting up, it looked like it was going to be a lively evening. As Charlie stood watching the musicians, Patrick Malone walked in deep in conversation with another man Charlie didn’t immediately recognise. Charlie placed the pint on the bar and watched the two men walk across the room, waiting for one of them to notice. The unknown man looked up, tapped Malone on the arm and pointed at Charlie, whispering. Charlie met the man’s gaze, turned and picked up the pint.  
Malone walked up to the bar ‘Duffy?’  
‘Who’s asking?’ said Charlie turning back to watch the band as they checked out the sound system.  
‘Paddy Malone and this here’s Seamus Riley’ Malone nodded in Riley’s direction. ‘Fancy another?’  
‘Why not’ replied Charlie placing the empty glass on the bar.  
‘Just got in?’ asked Riley.  
‘Came over on the night ferry and took my time, only stopped in for a quick one.’  
‘Lucky to catch you then’ sneered Riley.  
‘Yeah weren’t you’ Charlie looked Riley up and down as if he was something the cat had dragged in, then turned away again.  
Riley bristled and made to move towards Charlie until Malone put a hand on his arm and said ‘Be civil now, Seamus, Duffy here’s got something for us, don’t be spoiling things.’  
‘I’ve got better things to do than waste my precious time on scum like him. Let’s talk business, preferably not here’ snapped Charlie.  
Malone turned to the barman and enquired if the backroom was free then indicated to Charlie to follow them down the corridor. Charlie hesitated for a moment then followed the two men down the corridor. Malone opened a door saying ‘More private in here, be able to hear each other.’ Charlie closed the door behind them and leaned back against it watching the two men.  
‘Have you got the money for us?’ asked Malone.  
Charlie looked at him and laughed ‘Does it look like it? I only ever deliver the cash on completion of a deal not before, that way I get to protect my associates interests. A dead fixer is no use to anyone. You want the help of my associates you play by my rules or I walk out of here right now and that will be last you see of me, do you understand Malone?’  
‘I don’t trust you Duffy further than I can spit, how do we know you won’t double cross us?’ snarled Riley.  
‘You don’t,’ said Charlie ‘how do I know you won’t put a bullet in the back of my head as soon as you’ve got the money? The money stays with me until I decide to hand it over. If you don’t like my methods then get another fixer.’ Charlie reached back for the door handle whilst reaching for the Browning inside the leather jacket. ‘Get rid of him or this conversation is over.’  
‘Seamus get out.’  
‘What and leave you with this mad bugger, are you out of your mind?’  
‘Out now.’  
Duffy opened the door and watched Riley walk down the corridor back to the public bar.  
‘Duffy when can you contact Martell?’  
‘Tomorrow all being well. If I was you I’d keep that trained monkey well out of my way or you will be needing another one to take his place. You will do this my way or my associates will pull the plug on your dirty little war Malone. Seven thirty day after tomorrow here and keep him out of my way.’ Charlie opened the door and walked slowly back down the corridor to the public bar to find the band in full swing. Charlie motioned to the barman for another pint and stood back to enjoy the music.  
It was late by time Charlie left the Derry Arms and to anyone watching, rather the worse for wear – in fact Charlie had drunk very little during the evening, nursing a couple of pints of Guinness while enjoying the band. Charlie was certain that Riley would have been thorough in checking out the fixer and would have reported back to Malone with what he had found out. Charlie continued the illusion of being worse for wear on the walk back to the flat, frequently stopping and looking round as if lost but in reality using the opportunity to check for tails. Satisfied that Malone had decided to keep Riley on a short leash for the time being, Charlie arrived back at the flat and made one last sweep of the area while fumbling with locks on the door to the courtyard – a quick glance showed everything to be as it should be. Charlie walked over the Moto Guzzi and ran a loving hand over the sleek bike checking that nothing had been tampered with. Satisfied the Operator unlocked the flat and reset the alarms before drawing the curtains and turning on the lamp. Charlie walked into the kitchenette to get the open bottle of scotch. Dispensing with a glass Charlie walked back into the living room and turning off the light, took a long pull on the scotch on the way. Charlie stood by the window in the bedroom looking out at the Moto Guzzi in the moonlit courtyard, drinking occasionally, thinking about Duffy and how hard it was becoming to separate the fixer from the soldier. Moving towards the bed Charlie realised that this op marked a turning point - seeing Bodie again had made the Operator realise that maybe the only way to keep the past at bay was to walk away from the security of the Army and start a new life. Maybe now was the time to break down some of those carefully erected walls and let people see the real Charlie Price. 

Sometime later Charlie sat up, looked at the clock beside the bed realising that sleep was not going to come, got up and walked into the living room opening the curtains on to the courtyard. Picking up the bottle Charlie sat down, took a long pull from the scotch and waited for the images to start. Faces swam before the Operator’s eyes, some dead, others God alone knew where they were, but they had all left their marks. Tonight the images were accompanied by the sounds and smells of blood and death. Charlie sat staring out of the french windows not seeing the sleek bike gleaming in the pale moonlight but events from the past. The car in front of Charlie’s bike suddenly exploded, pieces of scorching metal raining down along with unidentifiable lumps of human flesh. In slow motion the scene played out in Charlie’s mind as the body was flung clear of the bike and carnage, ending up slumped in the gutter, blood trickling from where the Operator had hit the kerb. Two men in balaclavas picked up the unconscious figure and hurried to the waiting van, dumping the inert figure in the back. The van drove away as the flames licked around the mangled remains of the car just as the RUC patrol came screaming down the road, sirens blaring. The scene changed to a derelict farmhouse near the border, the same two men were there, this time handing out retribution on the hooded and bound figure. The Operator took the beatings without a sound - the punching, the kicking, the knives, the cigarette burns and even the branding iron, they may have broken the body but the spirit remained strong. Again the scene changed, this time the back of a helicopter surrounded by medics and soldiers, amongst them Bodie unable to hide the horror in his eyes at the sight of Charlie’s battered body. Charlie took another pull at the bottle in an attempt to block out the demons but tonight they seemed determined to be seen and heard. Other images flickered in front of Charlie’s unfocused eyes, more bombs and maimed survivors, both the innocent and the guilty, friends no longer able to live a normal life as a result of the Troubles. There were many things in the Operator’s life that Charlie was not proud of, the dirty war fought against fellow British citizens, the people let down and disowned, friends no longer spoken to but most of all being a paid killer on call to all and sundry, ready to obey without question. Charlie pulled at the bottle of scotch as the scenes played out, not to dim the memories but in an attempt to dull the constant pain of healed bones and ever present scars that still burned after three long years. 

Monday 14 March 1977

Charlie looked at the clock on the table beside the bed in the shared port-a-cabin and realised that there was just time to grab a coffee from the cook-house on the way to the briefing room. As Charlie hurried down the covered walkway back to the briefing room clutching a mug of coffee, the Operator noticed a group of soldiers standing around in fatigues waiting to be called in for the briefing. Charlie nodded a brief greeting in passing as everyone made their way into the briefing room. Two hours later as Charlie left the briefing room mulling over the details of the op and who had been designated which Troop, the Operator noticed that the two SAS Sergeants were standing talking in the walkway. 

As Charlie approached the two men one of them turned around aware of someone coming their way; Charlie looked closely at the men and realised with dismay that both of the men knew the Operator’s real identity. Charlie watched the two men and waited for them to make the first move, trusting that at least one of them would realise that it would be foolish to admit to having met before.

‘Hey isn’t that the PTI from Aldershot, Charlie P…..’ one of the men began to say to the other but before he could complete the sentence Charlie grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into a nearby empty office, closely followed by the other man.

‘You do not know me, you do not know my name and you have never met me, do you understand? You will never mention my full name while you are over here, Keller. If you do I will personally see to it that your little holiday here is cut permanently short.’ Charlie growled at the Sergeant. ‘Do I make myself clear? I take it you two are in charge of the protection details for this outing?’

‘Look, mate’ sneered Sergeant Jimmy Keller ‘what gives you the right to go around telling me what I can and can’t do……’

Keller was rudely interrupted by Bodie ‘Jimmy, shut up and listen, you prick! In this mob we are merely the gophers – we do as we are told and lump it. Here we don’t know anyone unless we are introduced by the Boss. No-one here knows anything about each other, it’s first names only - no personal info such as surname, rank, background, nothing. We are here to act as backup if things go tits up - we go in hard and fast to get whoever out, that’s it.’ 

Keller looked at Bodie and Charlie, then turned round and headed back towards the cook-house, shoulders set, swearing profusely as he walked away. Charlie turned to Bodie ‘I see Jimmy’s still as charming as ever – how he ever made it to Sergeant is beyond me, he hasn’t got the brains he was born with. Thanks for stepping in by the way, I was just about to knock his bloody head off. The last thing I need right now is Jimmy fucking Keller and his attitude, he’s likely to blow this op before we even get started. Hopefully I won’t have to look at him again whilst he’s here.’

‘Yeah well, that might not be the case,’ replied Bodie. ‘Unfortunately he’s in charge of Red Troop.’

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck’ swore Charlie pacing back and forth in the empty office. ‘Fuck it I’m going to speak to the Boss. Keep Keller away from me - I’m not prepared to let him blow this there’s too much riding on this. Are you going back to Bessbrook?’

‘No we’re slumming it here for the duration. I’ll speak to Jimmy on the way and when we get back I’ll try to get to see Peter and give him the heads up about today.’

‘Peter Skellen? Cheers Bodie and thanks again. Keep in touch, we really need to catch up when we both get back over the water. Don’t take it personally if I say I hope I don’t see you again over here’ said Charlie leaving the office to find the Boss.

‘Take care Charlie, keep your head down and watch out for the natives. First round’s on you when we get back’ replied Bodie watching the Operator walk away.

Charlie managed to track down Peter just as he was about to leave his office. ‘You got a minute Boss, something urgent has come up with regard to the op’ said Charlie.

‘Sure, grab a brew and pull up a chair. What’s bothering you about the op – I thought that you’d double checked everything with regard to Duffy.’

‘It’s nothing to do with my cover, it’s to do with the protection details that have been allocated to me and Kevin, well more specifically me. You need to know that both of the Sergeants know me quite well and what my background is.’

‘I see, how well do you know them?’

‘I know Sergeant Bodie better than Jimmy Keller – a group of us used to hang around together at Aldershot before I got posted over here and he was one of them along with Sergeant Bodie. Keller recognised me after the briefing, in fact if I hadn’t managed to get him into an empty office he would have announced exactly who I was and my background. Luckily Sergeant Bodie and I managed to stop him just in time. I understand that Keller is in charge of Red Troop who have been designated as my protection detail – I think it might be wise to get them swapped with Blue Troop as I don’t trust Keller to keep his mouth shut.’

‘I thought you said you know both of them, won’t having Sergeant Bodie in charge be just as much of a problem?’

‘No, I’ve known Sergeant Bodie for a lot longer, he knows what this job involves and understands the need to know aspect. I trust Sergeant Bodie Boss, but I’m not sure about Jimmy Keller there’s just something about him that I don’t like and to be honest I think the feelings mutual. It’s your call but I’d be much happier if Red Troop took over the responsibility for Kevin. Sergeant Bodie was going to talk to Keller on their way back and also try to see Captain Skellen about it when he got back.’

‘Leave it with me Charlie, I’ll give Peter Skellena call and explain the situation to him. You had better get back and get sorted, lift off is at eight so you and Kevin need to be in the briefing room by seven.’

‘Thanks Boss, keep a brew on the go for us and we’ll see you when we get back if you’re not there to wave us off. Hopefully we’ll be back in time for Easter so make sure those bastards save us some eggs!’

Charlie managed to catch Kevin as he was coming out of the cook-house clutching a bacon sarnie.

‘Glad I managed to catch you Kev,’ said Charlie ‘I wanted to give you the heads up that you’re going to have Red Troop watching your arse while we’re away.’

‘How come, I thought you were their responsibility?’

‘Ah, well, therein lies a tale that unfortunately I can’t tell you – if I did I’d have to kill you. Let’s just say that the Boss is in the process of speaking to Bessbrook to alert them of the need for the change.’

‘Must be serious if Peter’s dealing with it personally’ said Kevin.

‘You know me, Kev, I wouldn’t bother him if this wasn’t really important – fortunately he agreed with me once I’d explained the situation to him’ replied Charlie. 

‘Ok, I trust your judgement’ said Kevin curious as to exactly what could have made Charlie speak to the Boss about the details of who was looking after who. The two operators had worked together closely on numerous ops but this was the first time he could remember Charlie involving the Boss at such a late stage in the proceedings. ‘I’m just off down the range, fancy joining me and letting off some steam?’

‘Cheers Kev, give me half an hour and I’ll see you there – make sure you save a couple of targets for me’ grinned Charlie.

Tuesday 29 March 1977

As Charlie pushed the motor bike out of the back alley that ran between the rows of terraced houses that typified the Lower Falls area, the Operator took the opportunity to scan left and right to check that there were no obvious dickers out and about looking for anything out of the ordinary on a Monday afternoon. Satisfied that the street was as quiet as it could be at 1630 at the start of the working week, Charlie pulled on the helmet and climbed on the bike, adjusting the rucksack so it sat comfortably between the Operators shoulders and that the straps didn't interfere with the holster concealed beneath the heavy leather jacket. Glancing left and right to check for traffic Charlie pulled out of the alley into Inkerman Street and headed for the Falls Road, weaving around the numerous barricades placed to prevent the Army pushing too deep into the Republican stronghold. Even though Charlie had spent many school holidays staying with family in the area, in particular old Ma Duffy, the staunch Republican atmosphere took some getting used to especially the distrust openly afforded to strangers. Luckily a lot of the older residents remembered old Ma Duffy and the gang of grandchildren that would appear during the holidays, even if they didn't recognise Charlie’s face, so much of the hatred and distrust was held in check and a few even ventured to ask about the family that had left before the height of the Troubles. Fortunately old Ma Duffy had died while Charlie had been in Belfast and the Operator had been able to attend her funeral which helped reinforce the necessary credentials and ties Charlie had to the area. Occasionally some of the more staunch Catholics would ask after the rest of Ma Duffy’s grandchildren and Charlie would simply state that there had been no contact between the siblings for the last 10 years - they were not to know that it was Charlie joining the Army that had caused the rift, they simply assumed it was because of the fact that Charlie spent so much time in and around the Belfast and the fact that Charlie had adopted the old lady’s name.

Turning on to Springfield Road Charlie rode slowly past the children hanging around the barricades on their way home from school. Even though Charlie had spent years in and around the Turf Lodge, Ballymurphy and Springfield estates the Operator still felt uncomfortable knowing that the usual Army patrols were prevented from operating in the area. Since the Ballymurphy massacre the only time soldiers came into the estates was if they were requested by the RUC to assist or they were sent to Fort Monagh to be seen as a deterrent. Although Charlie was accepted to a certain degree that could change in an instant, people who had spent their whole lives in the same house frequently disappeared without a trace. The Operator was only too aware that this was one of the most hardline areas in the city and that the PIRA was keen to maintain the balance of power and keep the people toeing the line which was borne out by the number of routine knee-capping incidents on the estates. Charlie grimaced behind the visor, thankful that it afforded some degree of anonymity - too many Army personnel had been killed or maimed simply because their face was not familiar or they did not fit in. As a result of Charlie’s family background and ties to the city, the Operator had been sent into the hardline areas more frequently than a lot of the others, either in the MRF or 14 Company, both as part of a team and as a lone wolf. Charlie had the ability to blend in with the communities and understood the way they lived, which a lot of undercover personnel found hard.

As the Operator approached the junction of Monagh Road Charlie saw the traffic slowing down to negotiate one of the numerous RUC vehicle checkpoints that routinely monitored the residents entering and leaving Turf Lodge. Today it appeared that the RUC were being assisted by an Army patrol, which immediately suggested to Charlie that they were looking for someone specific. Charlie had heard a whisper while drinking in the Divis Castle that the Brigade were expecting a visit from someone high-up in the organisation, it seemed that the information that Charlie had managed to pass on to base had been taken seriously and acted upon. Charlie knew that if challenged at the checkpoint the Operator’s cover would stand scrutiny – Charlie Duffy existed and had a legitimate reason to be travelling out of the city, however it was possible that the Army patrol were aware of the bike as being on their watch list but with no information other than to report the movements of the Operator. It would be highly unusual that the RUC and Army would be aware that there was an undercover operative active in the area and certainly the identity would not have been disclosed. Charlie was confident that the checkpoint would pose no threat since the Operator’s identity was a closely guarded secret and was only known to those in 14 Company and to the commanding officer in charge of the SAS protection details. Resigned to sitting in the queue Charlie became aware of a tatty old transit van which had forced its way into the traffic immediately behind the Operator. Charlie checked the bike’s mirrors but was unable to make out any details of the occupants of the van other than to ascertain that it contained what appeared to be males. The sudden appearance of the van directly behind Charlie caused the hairs to rise on the back of the Operator’s neck and immediately Charlie started scanning the area for the ever present dickers conscious of the fact that the bike, although manoeuvrable, was stuck in the queue. Charlie realised that trying to force a way out of the queue would only draw the attention of checkpoint and also the dickers, alerting all and sundry to the fact that the motorcyclist had something to hide. Charlie had no choice but to sit in the traffic and hope and pray that the van’s appearance was a coincidence and that nothing was amiss, although every sense told the Operator that something was about to happen - Charlie had long since accepted that if something felt wrong then it usually was. 

Suddenly there was a blinding flash and a loud but unmistakable crump of a bomb being detonated and in an instant the vehicle immediately in front of the Operator disappeared in a cloud of smoke and flames. Even though the traffic was moving slowly Charlie was unable to avoid the devastation and as pieces of burning metal and unidentifiable charred remains rained down, the Operator lost control of the powerful bike on a patch of oil. The Operator fought to keep the bike upright but it was a loosing battle and Charlie was sent skidding helmet first into the kerb. In the ensuing confusion it was easy for the two men in the van to grab the unconscious Charlie and bundle the Operator into the back of the van without attracting attention as the focus of those caught up in the horror was on the injured. The RUC and Army quickly cordoned off the area around the burning vehicles and radioed for assistance; by the time the first of the emergency vehicles arrived on the scene nobody remembered the nondescript van that had vanished from the queue of traffic. As part of the clean up the details and registrations numbers of the vehicles were run through the driver and vehicle licensing database and Op Vengeful to ascertain who had been driving in an attempt to identify the casualties. When the registration number of Charlie’s bike was run through the system all hell broke loose back at Holywood as it pinged on the system as belonging to one of the dummy identities used by 14 Company. When the RUC could not confirm that the owner of the bike was not among the casualties, Peter immediately contacted Captain Peter Skellen at Bessbrook to advise him that both Red and Blue troop would need to be deployed to the scene of the incident to ascertain what had happened to Charlie Duffy and to conduct a damage limitation exercise. It would appear that one of 14 Company’s deep cover agents was missing presumed dead. By the time Sergeants Bodie and Keller arrived on the scene with their respective troopers, the area had been cleared of all but the witnesses who were prepared to speak to the authorities about the bombing. Aware that the area was overlooked by the ubiquitous back to back housing common to Turf Lodge and Ballymurphy the two Sergeants instructed the troopers to form a loose cordon specifically to keep an eye out for the dickers that were certain to be watching the scene. As soon as the unidentifiable soldiers arrived the atmosphere at the bomb site changed, the RUC and Army realised that they had been caught up in something out of the ordinary and that they had possibly missed something or someone important. A thorough search of the immediate vicinity of the bombing revealed no clue as to what had happened to Charlie apart from the forlorn bike lying in the smouldering wreckage and a small amount of blood in the gutter. None of the witnesses could remember seeing the rider of the bike after it had careered into the flaming inferno, or if they did recall seeing Charlie or the tatty old van they were not prepared to say so. 

As Charlie began to recover consciousness the first thing the Operator tried to do was move, however it soon became apparent that whoever had taken the Operator had done a thorough job – Charlie’s hands were cuffed to the rear and there was a hood of some sort over the Operator’s head. 

‘Ah so you're awake now are you?’ came a voice from across the room.

‘Who are you? Where am I?’

‘Well now wouldn't you like to know now.’

Charlie listened to the voice trying to place the accent – the speaker was definitely a native of Belfast but that was all the Operator could ascertain apart from the fact that they were male, he could have been anywhere from eighteen to thirty. Charlie decided to stay quiet and wait for the speaker to make their demands known.

‘Now what would a biker like yourself be doing with a nice little gun tucked inside their jacket I wonder?’

‘Protection.’

‘Protection or did you intend to use it to settle some little mis-understanding now? I’m thinking it was the latter as the serial numbers been ground off and also there’s the small matter of the extra round up the spout – all cocked and ready to go as if you were expecting trouble.’

Charlie listened but didn't reply. 

‘Well now I think it’s time for you to have a wee think before you tell us what it is you were going to do and whose orders you're acting on,’ said the voice. ‘Why don't you make yourself comfortable now.’

Suddenly Charlie realised that there were two men in the room as the second one grabbed the Operator and forced Charlie to stand in a semi-squatting position. Charlie knew then that the men in the room had been subjected to questioning by the Army or security services – no one who hadn't been could know how excruciating standing for any length of time with your legs bent at the knees could be unless they had been subjected to it themselves. Charlie knew that the first hour wouldn't be too bad but as time progressed the strain on the thigh and calf muscles would become unbearable as the muscles began to cramp and spasm. Charlie had been subjected to this type of treatment as part of the selection process before joining the MRF and could remember how painful the position was. All operators underwent training with regard to resisting interrogation and the different methods used to gain a confession - if these men had been subjected to the five techniques then Charlie knew that it would only be a matter of time before they would move on to the next phase of degrading treatment. Charlie thought about what was to come - the Operator was already hooded and cuffed along with being forced to stand in the stress position - disturbed sleeping patterns and limited food and water would be added. Charlie knew that the odds of walking away from the episode were exceedingly slim but the Operator was determined not to reveal anything which could compromise 14 Company, whatever was in the Operators head would go to the grave with Charlie and the men would not have the pleasure of hearing Charlie beg for it all to end.

Time passed slowly for the Operator, Charlie’s legs were starting to spasm and both hands had gone numb. Every time the Operator tried to stand to ease the spasming one of the men would beat Charlie’s legs with a heavy wooden club.

‘Stand still scum, there’ll be none of that here. Have you done thinking yet?’

Charlie thought for a moment before answering ‘My name is Charlie Duffy and I was on my way to see some cousins out in Andersontown about a job they might have for me. The gun is for protection – I bought it from a man in the Divis Castle, ask around they'll know me. Ask around about Old Ma Duffy, I’m one of hers.’ Charlie knew that if the men did check up the story would hold water as the cover had been in place for several years. Charlie had insisted that whenever Duffy was to be called upon there would be time for the cover to be re-established, meaning that Charlie would call in on all the necessary relatives and drinking establishments, telling people what the Operator had been up to in the intervening time. Due to the fact that Duffy was so well known a few words in the right ears usually had the stories spread and embellished by the time Charlie was ready to start whatever undercover operation was necessary.

‘Don’t you worry now, my friend here is going to find out all about you Charlie Duffy and then we’re all going to have some fun. I suggest that you try and relax while you’ve the chance.’

Suddenly the second man walked over and threw a punch which split the Operators lip and caused Charlie’s head to snap back against the wall adding to the mild concussion from the bike crash; blackness descended again. This time when Charlie came to it was to the taste of blood and the sensation of a dull ache – the punch had not only split the Operator’s lip but it had dislodged a loose tooth and Charlie spat the tooth and blood mixture into the hood.

Tuesday 29 March to Tuesday 5 April 1977

Charlie eventually realised that the men had left and the Operator gratefully slid down the wall and sat on the damp stone floor to relieve the cramping leg muscles and tried to get some circulation back into the numb hands. Charlie sat and tried to work out if the carefully constructed cover had been blown - Duffy had arrived, supposedly, on the overnight ferry from Liverpool along with Kevin and had gone straight to the house in Inkerman Road. The two operatives and not spoken to each other after they had been dropped off and had gone in opposite directions to start their missions in different areas of the city. Soon after checking in at Mrs Flynn’s Charlie had made the rounds of the Duffy family still living in the area and collected the motorbike from them. The Duffy's that still lived in Belfast had not spoken to anyone on Charlie’s side of the family, other than Charlie, since Charlie’s mother had married and moved to England and were unaware of the fact that Charlie had joined the British Army, it was just assumed that the Operator had been cut out of the family because of the Troubles. Charlie never mentioned the brothers still in England only to say that they no longer spoke because of the amount of time Charlie spent in Ireland and in particular in the Republican areas of West Belfast. Every time Charlie had been posted to Belfast the Operator had made sure that time was spent with the family and as a result the myth that Charlie was pro-Republican had grown and reinforced the cover that had been adopted. Also the ease with which Charlie was able to move around the Turf Lodge, Ballymurphy and Andersonstown areas was largely down to the support of the Duffy family and Charlie was seen almost as a local being welcomed in many of the bars and clubs while riding around on the powerful bike. Maybe, thought Charlie, one of the other operators had been caught and had divulged the identities of those undercover in order to save themselves. Charlie lay down on the floor and though back over the past two weeks - nothing stood out as being significant, could the situation merely be a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Whatever the reason behind the Operator’s abduction Charlie knew from experience that the odds of coming out of the situation alive were almost nil, most of those who had been taken were never found and those that were had suffered horrendously before death had claimed them. Charlie was a realist and knew that the odds of escaping would diminish quickly over the first couple of days, if it came down to a fight today, even two against one, Charlie stood to win given the years of hard physical training and having been a PTI but after being subjected to the five techniques the Operator knew that it would lead to death. Charlie was extremely fit and there was not an ounce of fat on the 5’10” frame however food and hydration were key to maintaining an edge.

Charlie could feel the cold and damp starting to penetrate thought the thin shirt and jeans adding to the discomfort from the bruises beginning to form as a result of being hit with the heavy wooden club. Charlie tried to concentrate of restoring the blood flow to the numb fingers and bruised legs by trying to move them. Time passed slowly in the damp and dank storeroom and soon Charlie began to aware of the first gnawings of hunger and thirst. At some point Charlie dozed off despite the creeping cold and the throbbing of the various aches and pains. Suddenly Charlie was awoken by a vicious kick to the kidneys having not heard the men return.

 

‘Stand up, you bastard’ shouted the man in Charlie’s ear, ‘it’s time for some more fun.’

Charlie struggled up to kneeling and then shakily managed to stand up despite the lack of hands for balance.

‘Right back against the wall just like before, you know the drill, try to stand and you’ll feel my temper’ the man screamed at Charlie.

Hours passed slowly and again Charlie was beaten with the club every time the Operator tried to ease the cramps and spasms in the tired legs. Charlie had no way of knowing whether it was day or night and the only breaks came when one of the men dragged the Operator to the toilet or they left. Whenever the men left Charlie slid down to the floor in an attempt to relieve the aches and pains. By now the Charlie was aware that the constant cold and damp was leading to bronchitis and also the Operator knew that the damage to the kidneys was causing damage – Charlie was pissing blood and starting to run a fever. Thankfully, although the men had not removed the cuffs they had at least loosened them and Charlie was no longer worried about any long term circulation damage but even so it took time for the Operator to get the blood flowing to hands and feet.

Charlie tried to count the number of times that the men had come and dragged the Operator upright and realised that maybe five or six days had passed but by now due to the bronchitis and kidney infection Charlie no longer cared what the men wanted, all the Operator wanted was for it be over. Not once during the beatings had Charlie said anymore than on the first day, even when the men had ground out the cigarettes on the Operator’s back and pissed on the burns the only thing Charlie repeated over and over was ‘My name is Charlie Duffy from Mrs Flynn’s on Inkerman Street.’  
‘Right you bastard it’s time to play’ said the more talkative of the two men ‘now move!’

The two men grabbed Charlie, removed the hood and cuffs and dragged the weakened Operator over to a low wooden bench in the middle of the room. Charlie realised that by removing the hood the two men had signed Charlie’s death warrant and the Operator tried desperately to fight but the days of being held captive had taken their toll. The two men forced Charlie face down over the bench and proceeded to fasten the cuffs to rings set into the legs of the bench. One of the men moved behind Charlie and started to undo the Operator’s jeans and push them down - Charlie tried to twist away and kick out in self defence but doing so the sudden movements caused the Operator’s left shoulder to dislocate. Charlie screamed in agony at the sudden pain and frustration as the man succeeded in removing the Operator’s jeans. Fighting the pain of the dislocated shoulder and struggling to breathe Charlie’s mind shut down. Finally the men grew tired of their entertainment when Charlie passed out and became unresponsive and one of them fetched a poker that had been heating in a fire in the room next door. The more talkative of the two men moved up beside Charlie’s head and slapped the Operator back to reality while the second man applied the red hot metal to Charlie’s left buttock. As the air was torn by Charlie’s tortured screams and the smell of burning flesh, the second man then applied the poker to the the other cheek and this time Charlie passed out. The two men decided that the time had come to dispose of Charlie but before loading the unconscious Operator into the back of the van they set about breaking both of Charlie’s legs with a heavy scaffold pole. The broken legs would serve as an extra insurance policy if the Operator did not die as a result of the bronchitis, burns, dehydration and various other injuries that Charlie had been subjected to. The men knew that by leaving Charlie back at the site of the checkpoint the locals would get the message that this is what would happen if you didn’t toe the party line. Charlie had been abducted to show the locals that respect on the estates had slipped and there had been too many instances of careless talk - the two men had been instructed to find a well known local and make an example of them. 

Wednesday 6 April 1977

Sergeant Bodie was sitting quietly contemplating his beer which was getting warmer by the minute in the fug of the Sergeant’s Mess even though the temperature outside was hovering just above freezing. As he sat alone in the corner Bodie’s thoughts turned to the fact that after nearly three and a half weeks there was no word on the two missing operators who had been last seen just days after being dropped off at the ferry port in Belfast, supposedly having just got off the ferry from Liverpool. Both Kevin and Charlie had been seen heading into the centre of Belfast and according to 14 Company both had made it to their respective undercover addresses. The nature of working with 14 Company meant that that the protection detail would spend hours waiting by the phone and more often than not they would not be required to provide assistance. Long hours of boredom spent sitting around or for a lucky few, in an observation post was usual during a posting. Occasionally things went wrong and two weeks into the undercover op a shout had been received for assistance at a regular checkpoint out of the city. Captain Skellen had taken the call just over a week ago and had dispatched both Red and Blue Troop as the information had suggested that there was a possibility that one of the undercover agents had been snatched in the aftermath of a bombing. Bodie sat and brooded over the image of Duffy’s bike lying at the side of the road and the ominous bloodstain beside it. The RUC had also been in attendance and as usual there were no witnesses or if there were they were too afraid to say anything, no-one had seen anything out of the ordinary and no-one remembered what had happened to the rider of the bike. A thorough search of the area revealed nothing, not even a discarded helmet, it was as if the rider had never been there. 14 Company refused to pass on the exact nature of the op that Kevin and Charlie were involved in other than to say that it would continue even though one of their main assets was missing presumed dead. 

Bodie pushed the empty glass across the table and made to leave the mess when suddenly Captain Skellen came through the door.

‘Bodie, get Red and Blue Troop ready and find Keller. Have the men outside by the vehicles and you and Keller meet me outside my office.’

‘What gives Sir?’ asked Bodie on his way out to locate Keller.

‘Call from the RUC, I’ll fill you both in shortly.’

Bodie left the mess and went in search of Keller, finally finding him lying on his bunk.

‘Oi, get up you lazy bastard, Captain wants us for a briefing now. I’ve sent your Troop to wait out front.’

‘Fuck off Bodie, can’t you leave a man to sleep in peace?’

‘Now Jimmy, Skellen’s just had a call from the RUC and wants you and me specifically – must be something big, he came and found me personally.’ Bodie gave Keller a swift kick to encourage the other man to move.

‘Ok, ok I’m coming, probably just wants the lads for another lousy patrol along the barricades. I’m coming, did he say anything else about the call?’

‘No, just that he’d brief us both when we got out front.’

Both men grabbed their helmets and weapons and ran to find Captain Skellen waiting just inside the gates to the compound.

‘Right gentlemen, the RUC have just been on the phone – seems someone has seen a body near to where that checkpoint got bombed last week, couldn’t say how long it’s been there or any other details. I want you two take your men and get a cordon set up, EOD are on their way incase its a set up and I’ve been on to Peter over at 14 Company given the location.’

‘Is it Duffy, Sir?’ asked Bodie.

‘You know as much as me Sergeant, now get your men there and report back to me with details. Do not get caught out by the dickers, there’s bound to several there by now. The RUC said the call came to them about half an hour ago but there was no code with it so this needs to be treated as a come on.’

The drive from Holywood seemed to take for ever and the information coming over the radio was mainly from the RUC giving details about roadblocks on their route. Eventually the two Humber pigs arrived at the scene which had been hastily cordoned off by the RUC. Bodie and Keller jumped out of their vehicles and approached the RUC Sergeant in charge.

‘Body’s over there partially under the hedge, a member of the public out walking their dog decided to do the decent thing and phone it in when they got home. No-one’s been closer than about twenty yards so we can’t tell if it’s booby trapped or not. Can’t even tell you if it’s a live one or not. EOD are on their way but have been held in up in the city centre, so I guess it’s over to you guys. We’ll maintain the roadblocks and keep the natives away.’

‘Right, lets get the guys out Jimmy and form a cordon, ten yard spacing and keep a bloody eye out for dickers. I’ll try and see if there’s any wires, you check the hedge line. Sergeant if your men can keep an eye on those houses over there and also if you can spare a couple of guys get them the other side of the hedge to make sure no-one can surprise us that way’ said Bodie grabbing an SLR and moving cautiously off the road and into the long grass running down to the hedge.

The troopers needed no further instructions and followed Bodie’s lead moving cautiously into position leaving Keller with the RUC Sergeant. As Bodie moved forward he concentrated on the ground in front and to his sides looking for any disturbance in the long grass that would indicate if there were any tripwires or a command wire leading away from the body to a concealed firing point. Nothing looked out of place as Bodie approached the body and he crouched down to see if the body had been placed on a primed hand grenade which would go off when it was moved. Satisfied that he could see nothing on the side of the body facing the road he took a moment to finally look up at the body and drew in a shaky breath – the person was laying on their right hand side with the face turned towards the hedge, their legs twisted un-naturally. As he looked he realised that the body was of a similar height and build to Charlie, as was the hair colouring. Knowing he had no choice Bodie carefully put a hand on the shoulder and made to roll the body over, asking one of the troopers to check the ground on the far side of the figure. The trooper nodded that again there appeared to be no obvious signs of a device and taking a deep breath Bodie gently rolled the body towards himself supporting the neck to prevent any spinal damage. The world seemed to pause and contract as the face of the figure in front of him was slowly revealed and he let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding - despite the dried blood and bruising Bodie saw clearly that it was Charlie Price. 

 

‘Keller’ yelled Bodie over his shoulder ‘get on to base, tell them it’s a positive for Duffy and that we need a chopper now. I’ve got a pulse but it’s very weak, looks like hypothermia along with two badly broken legs and Christ knows what else.’

Suddenly there was the unmistakable sound of a rifle shot and Bodie flung himself on top of the injured Operator ‘Sorry mate, good job you’re out of it’ he said lifting his head to try and ascertain the direction that the shot had come from. As Bodie looked back up to the road he saw Keller drop like a stone as a second shot came from the direction of the houses on the other side of the Humber pigs. ‘My nine o’clock, lay down some covering fire and get Keller behind that pig’ yelled Bodie. The RUC Sergeant grabbed Keller by the shoulders and dragged him out of the line of fire while calling in the contact. Around Bodie the troopers put down covering fire to allow the RUC soldiers to advance on the houses all the while knowing that by the time anyone reached where the shot had come from the gunman would be long gone, swallowed up in the maze terraced dwellings that were so common in the area.

‘Dawson?’

‘Sarg?’

‘Get up there and give me a report, speak to the RUC Sergeant and find out what’s happening. Also see if you can find out about Sergeant Keller. I need to know how long that chopper is going to be.’

‘Right Sarg’ replied Dawson making his way cautiously back up to the road.

Bodie slowly moved off the unconscious operator hoping that he hadn’t caused any further damage when landed on top of the badly injured Charlie, still a few more bruises were infinitely preferable to as bullet wound. Bodie looked up and saw that Dawson was still talking to the RUC Sergeant and pointing in the back of the Humber pig. A couple of minutes later Dawson slid down beside Bodie.

‘Keller’s taken a nasty gash in the side – lots of blood and swearing but nothing too serious, the RUC are still trying to locate the shooter and the chopper’s about five minutes out. Captain Skellen has requested that you go with Duffy and that both he and someone from 14 Company will meet you at the Royal Victoria. They don’t want Duffy left under any circumstances until they have got some answers. If Duffy comes round they want you to start a de-brief.’

‘Ok Dawson, you go back and liaise with the RUC, leave Harris and Roberts here with me.’

‘Sarg.’

Bodie watched Dawson give the other troopers their orders while he attempted to get Charlie into the recovery position without causing any further damage, the last thing he wanted was the Operator choking before the chopper arrived. Taking advantage of the fact that Charlie was still unconscious Bodie made a quick check of what he could see of the Operator’s injuries to pass on to the medical team when it arrived. As he opened the leather jacket Bodie saw that the shirt underneath appeared to be damp and he realised with dismay that it was blood and what looked like pus.

A few minutes later Bodie became aware of the sound of a chopper coming to the hover looking for somewhere safe to land out of range of the neighbouring houses which could quite easily conceal someone armed with a rocket propelled grenade. Bodie watched as the loading ramp was lowered and the medical team ran over to him and Charlie.

‘Sergeant, what’s the situation here?’

‘Body was found dumped here about two hours ago, no idea how long they’ve been lying out here but looks like hypothermia on top of two badly broken legs. Pulse has stabilised fractionally but it’s still very weak. I haven’t checked for anything else but the shirt is damp – looks like blood and pus so I’m guessing you’ll find some pretty serious injuries. Unfortunately I landed quite heavily on top of the body during a contact we had. By the way you’ve got another passenger in the back of one of the pigs up there, from what I’ve been told that one’s only a nasty gash but I’ve not seen it - I warn you Sergeant Keller is rather pissed off about it.’

‘Ok, any idea of who we are dealing with?’

Bodie looked at the medics ‘Yeah, I can give you an id. I’ve not checked for any identification but I believe it’s Charlie Duffy and that’s all the information I can give you at the moment.’

The medic looked at Bodie and realised that the Sergeant, although dressed in fatigues, had no insignia on the uniform and as such was likely to be be involved in something deniable. ‘Ok,’ he replied ‘I take it you’re coming along for the ride to the Royal Victoria?’

‘My orders are to stay with the casualty at all times’ said Bodie.

‘In that case you can make yourself useful while my colleague assess the other casualty. I need to get a drip in so this jacket will have to come off first.’

Bodie helped the medic move Charlie so that they could get the heavy leather jacket off to give them access to the Operator’s arm. As the jacket came off Bodie could see that the whole of the back of Charlie’s shirt was heavily stained with blood, some of which appeared to be fresh.

‘Ok roll up that sleeve and hold the arm out straight’ said the medic. Bodie held on to Charlie’s arm as the medic worked to bring up a vein to site the cannula for the drip. ‘Your colleague is very dehydrated and the cold isn’t helping’ said the medic as he finally succeeded in locating a vein large enough to take the cannula and immediately gave the unconscious Operator a shot of morphine and set up a saline drip. ‘I need someone to help me get these legs into splints.’

Bodie motioned to Harris to come and hold the bag of saline aloft so that he could help the medic splint Charlie’s legs. As Bodie held on to first one of Charlie’s legs and then the other, he could hear and feel the bones grating and he was thankful that the Operator was unconscious because to have that done whilst awake would have been agonising even after a morphine shot. When they had finished Bodie placed the battered leather jacket over Charlie on the stretcher ready for the transfer to the chopper. 

‘On my count of three lift’ said the medic as Bodie and the two troopers took hold of the stretcher. ‘One, two, three.’ The four men lifted the stretcher and carried Charlie into the back of the chopper for the transfer to the Royal Victoria. During the flight Bodie watched as the medics checked on the unconscious Operator and he wondered whether Charlie had cracked as a result of the severe beating. Just as the chopper made it’s final approach to the Royal Victoria Hospital one of the medics tapped Bodie on the arm and indicated that the Operator had come round. Bodie moved into Charlie’s line of sight and gave the Operator a thumbs up. Charlie looked at Bodie and then turned away unable to look the Sergeant in the eye and see the concealed horror and shock on his face. As Bodie followed the stretcher off the chopper he saw Captain Skellen and Peter waiting for him.

‘Well?’ asked Peter.

‘Nothing Boss, Charlie was unconscious until just before we landed. It looks bad, Sir, two broken legs, severely beaten and possibly hypothermia on top of bronchitis. I wouldn’t like to take bets on Charlie bouncing back from this one. There was no reaction, no recognition, just nothing! I expected something from Charlie.’

Captain Skellen turned to Bodie ‘get back to base and we’ll debrief you when we get back. There’s nothing you can do here.’

Bodie looked at the men and slowly walked out of the door hoping that Charlie had the strength to pull through, not just the injuries but the months of gruelling rehab the operator would have to undergo to get back to a normal life. 

Thursday 1 May 1980  
Charlie eventually woke up on the floor of the living room clutching the empty bottle of scotch feeling gritty eyed and hung over. Looking at the clock Charlie headed into the kitchenette to fix a strong black coffee and some toast before dressing in a tatty vest t-shirt and an old tracksuit. Bang on eight Charlie heard a car pull up outside the flat. Charlie set the alarm and locked the door, checking the street casually as Doyle leant across to open the passenger door.  
‘Morning’ said Doyle.  
‘Is it?’ replied Charlie with a yawn.  
‘What did you get up to last night?’  
‘Had a quick one down the Derry Arms, there was a live band so I didn’t get back ’til late. Also ran into Patrick Malone and one of his heavies, then was up most of the night with a good bottle of scotch trying to put the world to rights.’  
‘You’re kidding me right? Are you telling me you went into the Derry without any back-up, you got a death wish or something?’  
‘Yeah well, there was a good traditional band on. I can look after myself and I was kind of hoping to run into Malone. I’ve met far worse than him without backup over the water. Can you check someone out for me – name of Seamus Riley, 5’8’’, walks with a limp there’s something familiar about him.’  
‘I’ll check him out when I get back to base,’ replied Doyle.  
‘Cheers, appreciate it’ said Charlie, eyes shut and head back trusting Doyle’s driving completely. ‘Where you taking me then?’  
‘Training place of ours out near Warfield thought you could have a session with some of new boys who are just about ready to be let loose on unsuspecting Joe Public. We can go for a run round the grounds and then I’ll introduce you to Macklin, one of our trainers.’  
Charlie opened one eye and looked at Doyle ‘Won’t he be curious as to who I am?’  
‘Told him you were thinking about joining our merry band.’  
‘Yeah well might just be an option after this is all over.’  
Doyle pulled up by an ornate gatehouse at the entrance to a large country estate. A young man stepped out of the building and walked over to the car. ‘Morning 4-5, here for a refresher?’  
‘No, thankfully, just showing someone round our facilities. Macklin’s expecting us, it’s all been cleared by Cowley.’  
‘Right, Bodie be along later will he?’  
‘No, he’s busy back at HQ.’ Doyle turned to Charlie as they drove away from the gatehouse. ‘The perimeter of this place is about a mile so we can do several laps if you want, depends on how far you fancy going this morning.’  
‘I usually try to do at least 5 miles a day depending on where I am, how about you?’  
‘Usually run with Bodie a couple of times a week, depending on what we’re working on. It’s not always easy when you draw an obbo or babysitting.’  
‘Ok, let’s warm up and see how things go.’  
Doyle led them away from the house and found the track that took them out to the estate’s boundary, pausing by a fallen tree to warm up. They started off slowly, each adjusting their pace to match the other and soon they eased into a natural rhythm. At the end of the first circuit Doyle looked across at Charlie, grinned then stretched his stride increasing the pace. Charlie let Doyle pull away for a few minutes but then suddenly Doyle was watching Charlie’s back as the PTI easily out-ran him. At the end of the fourth circuit both of them were beginning to tire and Charlie dropped the pace enough for them to talk. ‘I think that should do’ said Charlie ‘especially as you’ve lined up a sparring partner for me.’  
‘Right lets head back to the house then’ replied Doyle easing back to a comfortable jog. By time they reached the house Charlie and Doyle had warmed down sufficiently to prevent any injuries and felt tired but relaxed.  
Instead of entering the main house Doyle headed out the back towards a range of outbuildings and opened the door to a large room occupying at least three of the barns. The floor was covered with large gym mats and sitting around were about a dozen tired looking agents. Doyle walked over to a tall blonde man ‘Macklin, this is Sergeant Charlie Price I was telling you about. Charlie, Brian Macklin.’  
‘Sergeant Price. Doyle here said you are a PTI?’  
‘Was, I might be in the market soon for something different but I still need to keep my hand in and keep fit so this might meet my requirements. Doyle said you might let me practise with your guys.’  
Macklin grinned at Charlie ‘Take your pick’ he said gesturing to the watching agents ‘just don’t break them, I’ve only just put them back together.’  
Charlie slipped off the sweat top, underneath a damp vest style t-shirt clung to Charlie’s muscular frame revealing a multitude of small burn scars along with a couple of faded gun shot wounds and the obvious knife scar. Doyle realised that the one he had seen the day before was far worse than he had thought – it ran almost from the left wrist to shoulder, twisting around Charlie’s muscular arm. Charlie saw Doyle take in the scars and shrugged at him. Charlie beckoned one of the agents forward to the middle of the mat. The agent looked about 22 and was at least a head shorter than Charlie and probably a stone or so heavier but light on his feet. The young agent started to circle hoping to catch the PTI off guard but Charlie suddenly launched a sweeping leg kick and took the agent’s feet from under him. Charlie was fast and had the agent pinned face down to the floor, one arm painfully forced up behind his back. Charlie released the arm lock and the agent rolled over rubbing at his shoulder wondering what the hell had happened. Charlie offered a hand to the agent pulling him to his feet ‘Fancy another go?’  
‘Think I’ll give it a miss and let someone else try their luck’ he said grimacing as he walked back to sit and watch. Macklin motioned for a second agent to step forward, then stopped as Doyle threw his sweat top down and walked up to Charlie. ‘You sure?’ asked Charlie, Doyle nodded. Charlie and Doyle faced each other across the mat, Doyle watching closely to see which way Charlie would move, looking for a twitch in the operators leg muscles. Charlie stepped back slightly transferring the weight from back leg to front and then sprang forward looking to take Doyle off-guard. Doyle ducked the under the arm and managed to grab at Charlie’s legs and they tumbled to the mat. Charlie grabbed Doyle by the t-shirt as the CI5 man pinned his opponent to the floor and then Doyle was rolling to one side as Charlie flipped him away using hips for leverage. Charlie was up before Doyle aiming to pin him down. Doyle grinned realising that he’d seen Bodie use similar moves on him before and he remembered that they had both told him that Operators were trained in unarmed combat by the SAS. Doyle rolled and managed to get to his feet grabbing Charlie in a headlock as the PTI stood up. Feeling Doyle’s arms round the neck Charlie turned into the headlock and then dropped towards the floor, one arm coming up over Doyle’s back reaching for the man’s hair and then Charlie was free. Slowly they circled each other throwing fast punches and blocks occasionally catching the each other, sweat flowing freely; they were both breathing hard concentrating on each other unaware of the watching agents. Macklin noted that although Charlie was fractionally taller and heavier than the wiry Doyle, they were evenly matched and both had their fair share of dirty moves which they used to try and a gain the upper hand. Eventually Doyle mis-judged a punch and stepped into Charlie’s fighting arc as the operator flung both hands palms first into his chest, Doyle flew backwards and landed on his back, the air momentarily knocked out of him. Charlie took advantage and pinned Doyle to the floor. Straddling him, knees keeping Doyle’s arms by his side Charlie used muscular legs to keep the agent’s legs apart lessening his chance to throw the operator off. Doyle looked up at Charlie ‘You fight dirty mate’ he said ‘worse even than Bodie.’  
Charlie grinned down at him ‘I’ll take that as a backhanded compliment’ helping Doyle to his feet. Macklin walked up to Charlie ‘Impressive, not often someone can take him down and keep him there’ indicating Doyle, ‘could always find room for someone like you here.’  
‘I’ll bear it in mind, thanks’ said Charlie picking up the discarded sweat top and slipping it on to keep from catching a chill. ‘Think I need to get back and have a shower.’  
As the two of them walked back to the car Doyle turned to Charlie ‘Did you get the that scar in Belfast?’  
‘That and a few others’ Charlie carried on walking not looking at Doyle ‘I spent three months in hospital being sewn back together again and another six months recovering. That’s the one of the reasons I train every day, took too much for granted and relied on others instead of myself. The other reason is I need to keep everything supple, if I don't workout then things start to seize up, one of the problems with scar tissue. Broken bones and scars might heal but more often than not you end up with problems with movement, stiffening of joints, flexibility etc. I want to enjoy my life when I retire! I’m not one to sit around waiting to die, struggling to live because I didn’t take care of myself.’ Charlie stopped and turned to face Doyle ‘Don’t ever put your trust in other people Doyle, they have a nasty habit of letting you down and in this sort of situation, if they let you down you’re on your own. Learn to trust your body and your levels of fitness because if they let you down you’re dead! When your body stops doing what it’s supposed to you might just as well pull that trigger!’

Thursday 1 May 1980

After Doyle had dropped Charlie back at the flat the Operator sat down and started reading the part of the brief detailing what Malone and his cronies were demanding for their dirty little war in London. There were no specific instructions as to what types and how many weapons would be available for Charlie to source – the details had come from Malone and they made for interesting reading. Studying the list Charlie decided that a face to face meeting would be needed with Martell and Bodie. Charlie walked into the kitchen to get a fresh glass of water and on the way back picked up the phone and called the number listed in the file for Bodie’s flat. The phone rang twice before it was answered by an out of breath sounding Bodie. 

‘I need you to set up a meeting asap’.

‘Well hello Charlie, how are you? What makes you think I’m in the mood to talk to you?’

‘Quit pissing around Bodie, this is important, I need you to set this up for today.’

‘Set up a meeting with who exactly and why does it have to be today?’

‘I want you to set up a meeting with Marty for later this afternoon, somewhere public, I’ve got a meet with Malone and he’s bound to want to check out my credentials and how close my connection is to Marty. He will only be able to check so much in Belfast – my reputation and who has used my services, kills, enemies etc...... Meeting Marty and his number one somewhere public will just reinforce my credentials over here. It’s been a while since I was seen out and about this side of the water.’

‘What makes you think I can get Marty to agree to a meeting? Unfortunately last time I checked Marty wasn’t on the duty roster for CI5 – he might help us out but that’s as far as it goes, he doesn’t jump on Cowley’s orders the same way we do.’

‘Look Bodie, just set it up and call me back with a time and place for the meet. I’ll be here all afternoon or come by and pick me up. I haven’t got time to play games – remember you’re here for one thing only, to provide back up for this op!’

‘Ok, ok I get it I’m just a gopher to do whatever you want when you want without a thought or thank you. Do you know you can be a real bastard when you put your mind to it – you used to be fun, what happened to you Charlie?’

‘I grew up that’s what happened, funny that – Belfast was a bit of an eye opener really, made me realise that you have to step up and deal with problems not run away like a coward when things get tough!’

Charlie slammed the phone down and almost threw it at the wall before realising that the flat belonged to CI5 and as a result the damage was unlikely to be very popular, instead the Operator looked around for a glass and the bottle of scotch. Realising that the bottle had been finished after returning form the Derry Arms the night before Charlie stood in the middle of the room and let forth a stream of language blue enough to shock even the most hardened sergeant major, ‘fucking, pissing useless country, not a single fucking place to buy a decent fucking bottle of scotch, no fucking pubs open! Fucking Bodie, who the fuck does he think he is questioning the fucking mission about fucking time he woke up to the real world! Fuck him.’

Twenty minutes later the phone rang.

‘When and where?’

‘I’ll pick you up at 1730 – we’re meeting Marty at 1830 at his office. You owe me big time for this one, God knows what Marty will try and screw out of me for his trouble.’

‘Tell me where Marty’s office is and I’ll meet you there – I’d be happier with my own set of wheels if things go bad.’

‘Marty does most of his entertaining on the Woolwich Ferry – at that time it will be at the South pier. I’ll be there a bit before 1830.’

Charlie put down the phone and checked the clock – 1445 plenty of time before the Operator would need to leave to beat the early evening rush of office workers heading out of the city. Looking round the flat Charlie decided that a couple of hours sleep would be handy after last nights encounter with the bottle and floor. Charlie walked into the bedroom, pulled the curtains and set the alarm, stripped off and settled on the bed, Browning within easy reach – even in the relative safety of the CI5 flat old habits were hard to break.

Charlie woke suddenly and automatically reached for the Browning startled by a strange noise, then realised it was the alarm – the sound it made was different from the one back in Aldershot, and in Belfast come to that, and it had momentarily confused the Operator. Charlie went into the bathroom and turned on the shower hoping there would be enough hot water, if not it wouldn’t be the first time Charlie had had to endure ice cold water, far too many training courses revelled in subjecting recruits to its charms. Unfortunately the hot water decided to run out as soon as Charlie stepped into the shower however its effects served to wake the Operator up and several minutes later revived and invigorated Charlie dressed in the familiar leathers, clutching the bike helmet, stepped out of the flat and unlocked the gates to the courtyard. 

Charlie slowly pushed the bike out into the street glancing up and down to check if anyone was watching and caught sight of a battered old Ford van parked about fifty yards away that looked out of place. Although the neighbourhood was not totally rundown the van was out of character with the surrounding parked vehicles which seemed to belong to people working in the nearby shops and businesses. The van was parked on the wrong side of the road facing the oncoming traffic diagonally opposite the gates to the flat and two men were trying to look inconspicuous posing as workmen taking a short break, however the van was unmarked and too clean to pass the Operator by. Years spent working undercover in Belfast and other unsavoury parts of Northern Ireland had tuned Charlie’s sixth sense of what was right or wrong and this vehicle stood out as if it was labelled ‘look at me’. Charlie climbed slowly on to the bike and sat for a moment before putting on the helmet so as the men could get a good look at the Operator before pulling out into the light traffic. Charlie decided to go with the flow of the traffic and not to try and loose the van since the tall rider on the big black bike would stand out in the traffic and also there was no guarantee that there would not be someone else waiting at the Woolwich Ferry since Malone knew of Marty. Charlie checked the time and saw that it was almost 1700 which left plenty of time to check out the area around south pier before meeting Marty and Bodie, luckily the bike would be going on the ferry so there would be no worries about it being left unattended in a public place, something which Charlie tried to avoid at all costs. 

Traffic was surprisingly light for teatime on a Wednesday and Charlie made good time through the Blackwall Tunnel, the bike was handy for nipping in and out of the stationary cars and vans and soon the van following was lost in the queue. Charlie pulled up at the end of a short queue of cars waiting for the 1830 ferry, again it appeared that the bulk of the traffic was heading in the opposite direction. Looking round the Operator couldn’t see anything that gave cause for concern – the hairs on the back of Charlie’s neck stayed firmly down, everything seemed as it should. The only thing missing was Bodie. Charlie knew that he would make himself known on the ferry, they had both been involved in this type of work for far too long to make an approach without first thoroughly checking out the area.

As the queue started to move towards the ramp Charlie flipped up the visor and scanned the upper deck area of the ferry and caught sight of Bodie deep in conversation with Marty, which explained his absence in the queue. At least now Charlie had some idea of where to head for. Charlie parked the bike, making sure it couldn't topple over and headed up the stairs to the upper deck level. Taking a moment to get orientated Charlie scanned the people coming up from the car deck and caught sight of someone who appeared to walk with the same slight limp as Seamus Riley and also was the right height and build. Charlie turned and bent to put the bike helmet down whilst smiling at the amateurish attempt that Riley was making to try and blend into the crowd - unfortunately the Irish man was as obvious as cuckoo in a blackbirds nest to the Operators trained eye. At least Malone was acting true to form and covering both the flat and the meeting place - his intelligence on Martell must be reliable but then again most information could be bought at the correct price.

Picking up the bike helmet from the floor Charlie moved towards the stern of the ferry looking out for Bodie and Marty and eventually found them tucked in a quiet corner of the outside seating area. As it was a fairly cool April evening most people had decided that it was too cold to spend the crossing outside and had opted to remain in their vehicles or inside where it was warmer.

‘Bodie, Marty’ said Charlie walking up to the two men and leaning back against the deck rail looking back along the ferry keeping an eye out for Riley or anyone else heading their way. ‘Can you get what I need by Friday?’

‘Bodie, aren’t you going to introduce me to this delectable young person?’

‘Marty this is Charlie Duffy from Belfast, I’m sure the name is familiar to you from some of your acquaintances?’

‘What are you suggesting dear boy, are you implying I might be playing both ends against the middle? So this is the famous, or should that be infamous Charlie Duffy? Charmed to meet you at last, are you free later?’

‘Marty, behave Charlie’s here purely on business and wouldn’t be interested in an old reprobate like you!’  
‘Less of the old thank you. What do you want and why do you think I can supply it at such short notice?’

‘Look I’m not here to piss about if you can’t work to my timescale I’ll find someone who can,’ said Charlie stepping away from the railing and picking up the bike helmet. ‘It’s not like you’re going to lose them – think of it as a temporary loan with benefits!’

‘Ok ok, what do you want and I’ll see what I can get – no promises.’

‘The usual – AR18’s, as many as you can get your hands on, a couple of M60’s and a selection of pistols, Brownings, Colt 1911’s, Berettas and Makarovs, whatever you’ve got lying about so long as they’re in good condition. I want more longs, my clients have been very specific about that. Obviously you’ll supply all the relevant ammo as well.’

Marty whistled ‘You don’t want much do you? Leave it with me and I’ll see what I can come up with by Friday. I’ll be in touch with Bodie about collection. Bodie, what do I get out of this little venture?’

‘You get the pleasure of having helped CI5 and staying out of jail for a bit longer.’

‘I think you’ll find the pleasure has been all mine – I hope we can do business again soon especially if you bring Duffy here along with you! Just remember you owe me big time Bodie and you can tell Cowley I intend to collect what’s owed to me. If I can’t have you or Doyle maybe I’ll settle for Duffy.’

Friday 2 May 1980  
The next day Charlie met up with Bodie and Doyle on their bikes at a quiet country pub just outside Maidenhead. It was bright but not over warm however they decided to sit outside in the beer garden as it gave them a good opportunity to observe the comings and goings and also to keep an eye on the bikes. It appeared that the time apart had helped clear the air as the conversation flowed easily between Bodie and Charlie. ‘The helmet’s all done for you’ said Doyle ‘just remember to pick up the right one when we leave.’  
‘Cheers, that will make things a lot easier from now on.’  
Bodie sat back on the bench, carefully watching Charlie comparing the relaxed attitude to that of two days ago – Duffy had arrived, calm and in control. He realised there was no hint of Charlie Price in the person in front of him – sure they looked the same but Duffy was much more assured and oozed confidence. ‘Everything set?’ he asked Charlie.  
‘I’ve made contact, word of my arrival had already reached Malone and his merry band by time I got to the pub to check it out.’  
‘You move fast’ noted Bodie.  
‘Have to in this game. Malone knew that the fixer had come over on the night ferry plus he had a good description of me, so he knew exactly who I was the moment he walked in. Any news from Marty yet?’ Charlie looked at Doyle with an almost imperceptible shake of the head, as if to say don’t mention the trip to the Derry Arms of two nights ago, Doyle just winked back. Charlie guessed that Bodie would have passed on the details of the meeting with Marty the previous evening to Doyle while they were waiting.  
‘Not yet, he should be contacting me later this afternoon and I’ll pass the details on to you tonight at the Derry Arms when I arrive.’  
‘Bloody hell! So how do you move the money around then?’ asked Doyle.  
Charlie grinned ‘Trade secrets.’ As Charlie leant down to pick up the helmet, the leather jacket swung open to reveal the Browning and holster just as the barmaid came over to clear their table – a look of horror flashed across her face as she noticed the gun.  
‘Time to move’ mouthed Bodie at Doyle behind the barmaids back. ‘Deal with her and meet us up the road.’  
Charlie casually did up the jacket and collected the helmet while Doyle turned his charm on the startled barmaid. Charlie and Bodie waited in the first lay-by for Doyle, who turned up twenty minutes later. As he took off the helmet they could see he was laughing. ‘What’s tickled you sunshine?’ asked Bodie.  
‘This’ was the reply, as Doyle flourished a piece of paper with an address and phone number written on it.  
‘Trust you!’  
‘I told Sally that Charlie here was an actor filming a spy movie over at Pinewood and that the gun was a prop.’  
‘And she believed you?’ asked Charlie.  
‘Must have done, even got me to promise to send her tickets for the premiere. Told her not to say anything about seeing you in case it got back as you’re not supposed to be on the bike, you know, insurance etc.’  
‘You crafty sod’ chuckled Bodie.  
‘Right, who’s up for a ride?’ asked Charlie unwilling to head back to the dingy flat just yet; there were still a few hours before the meet later that evening.  
‘Anywhere in mind?’ asked Doyle.  
‘Maybe’ was the reply. Charlie snapped down the visor and pulled out of the lay-by. The traffic was light and once they hit the main road heading south, Charlie opened up the big bike, mindful to keep the others in sight. Where they were able they pushed the bikes hard eating up the miles. Just after one, Charlie signalled to pull into a transport cafe on the outskirts of Aldershot. Parking the bike Charlie turned to Bodie as they took off their helmets. ‘Remember this place?’  
‘Bloody hell, haven’t been here in years! Is it still run by that Italian couple?  
‘Was last time I stopped by, best bacon sarnies for miles.’  
Bodie grinned and pushed past Charlie into the cafe, Doyle just shook his head and followed behind. Seated by the window to keep an eye on the bikes, Doyle turned to Charlie ‘One of your locals?’  
‘Yeah I’ve been based in Aldershot a couple of times over the years, we used to come out here on the bikes quite a bit. If I’m passing I like to pop in. Luckily no-one from the base uses it much these days, it’s mainly truckers now. I think there was some trouble between a few local lads and some Paras a couple of years back.’  
Bodie came back clutching three mugs of coffee and a scrap of paper with a number on it. ‘Got you two a bacon sarnie each’ he said sitting down to wait for their food. Not long after their number was called and Bodie went off to collect the order. When he came back to the table, Bodie had a plate loaded with a full English breakfast, ‘I’m a growing lad’ he said grinning at the others. When they had finished Charlie stretched and looked round before saying ‘When will your guys be finished sorting out the bugs in the back room?’  
Doyle looked at his watch ‘Should just about be done by now. I will be in the van just round the corner and Murphy will be in the bar. What time do you plan to call Bodie?’  
‘If all goes to plan around eight which will give him time to get there before last orders. These guys are likely to be nervy so just follow my lead, don’t be surprised by anything I do or say – we’ve done this before.’  
Bodie nodded ‘Will they question why Marty isn’t there in person?’  
‘Bound to but I should have time to gloss over that before you arrive. Are we clear? I need to get back and sort out some things, so I’ll leave first.’ Charlie walked out of the cafe, pulled on the helmet, climbed on the bike and rode off.  
Doyle turned to Bodie after Charlie had left ‘You ready to head back mate?’  
‘Yeah.’ The younger man seemed unusually subdued staring out of the window.  
‘Penny for them?’  
‘They’re worth a lot more than that’ replied Bodie. ‘I wonder why Charlie chose to come back here now?’  
‘Don’t know, maybe the need to be in a familiar place? Can’t be easy forever moving around, always looking over your shoulder knowing someone somewhere wants you dead.’  
‘You don’t survive as long as Charlie has by thinking like that’ Bodie replied. ‘Charlie’s motto is live in the now, you can’t change the past and as for tomorrow – well, today might be your last day. That’s one of the reasons I got lumped the other day - seeing me brought the past back to life and a whole load of things which neither of us is ready to deal with yet, if ever. I can’t think of too many Operators who are still active, certainly not off the top of my head. Charlie’s got to be one of the best, if not the best.’  
‘Do you think that working with you again is affecting Charlie, stirring up bad memories from the past?’  
‘I really don’t know mate.’  
‘What did happen in Belfast?’ Doyle knew he was likely to get shut out but he was curious as to how Charlie had got the scars and why Bodie never talked about that particular op.  
‘Not now mate, maybe when this is all over. Long and short of it is something happened that was out of our control and Charlie got hurt. We were lucky to get Charlie out. Charlie mistakenly believed it was my fault that the protection detail wasn’t where it should have been.’ Bodie suddenly stood up and turned to Doyle ‘What do you make of Charlie then?’  
‘What do you mean?’  
‘Well you spent time together yesterday – what do you think of Charlie’s reactions lately?’  
‘I can tell when Duffy’s around, there’s no hesitation and more control compared to the Charlie Price I met back at the flat. I get the impression that things are much more clear cut with Duffy – maybe that’s the real Charlie - everything seems to be so natural, no hesitation just the need to get on with the job in hand. Why do you ask?’  
‘Was just wondering what you made of Charlie’ replied Bodie as he got up from their table and turned to walk out.  
Doyle realised that the conversation was over.  
‘You ready then’ asked Bodie, ‘you’ll be wanting to get to the buggy boo. Who you got for company tonight – Anson?’  
‘No Jax, thankfully, Anson will be in the car as back up.’  
The two men left the cafe, started up the bikes and headed back.

Friday 2 May 1980  
At seven thirty that evening, Charlie walked into the Derry Arms and made for the bar ‘Pint of Guinness. Malone in yet?’  
‘Out the back.’  
‘Cheers.’ Charlie took the drink and opened the door to the back room, pausing to look round noting Murphy in the corner, not acknowledging the agent. Malone and Riley were already waiting for Charlie.  
Outside in the buggy boo Doyle adjusted the headset so it sat comfortably over one ear, he was able to hear the conversation clearly. Murphy had done a good job of getting a bug under the table that Malone was sitting at and one behind the curtains so the whole room was covered. From the way Charlie’s voice kept drifting he knew the Operator was pacing around the room. ‘Are you getting all this Jax?’ The other man fiddled with the tape machine and nodded in Doyle’s direction.  
‘What’s he doing here Malone, I thought I told you to keep that trained monkey out of my way.’  
‘No Duffy, he’s staying – seems only fair, two of us and you – kind of makes the odds a bit more even, don’t you think?’  
‘I’m warning you Malone, he so much as looks at me wrong and….’  
‘Ok, ok. When’s Martell going to be here?’  
‘After I make a phone call and not before.’  
Doyle heard the door open but the noise from the public bar drowned out what Malone and the other man were saying. ‘Shit, shit, shit. What the hell is going on there, can you make anything out Jax?’  
‘No too much noise from the bar – they got a band in there or what?’  
‘Murph?’  
‘Yeah’ came a quiet voice.  
‘What’s happening?’  
‘Charlie’s on the phone and I can see Malone in the back room – he appears to be arguing with his friend.’  
‘Can you hear what they’re arguing about?’  
‘Not without showing out, sorry mate.’  
‘Ok we’ll just have to trust Charlie and wait for Bodie to arrive. Stay where you are.’  
Suddenly the noise in Doyle’s headset cut out as Charlie shut the door on the way back in.  
‘Martell’s man should be here about nine – he’s Martell’s right hand man, I’ve dealt with him on several occasions, I trust him.’  
‘You’re fucking joking! Malone, you’re not going to deal with an underling. This prick is having a laugh, I say we’re being set up!’  
‘Seamus, I’ve warned you about keeping your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you.’  
Malone asked for the contact’s name and Doyle heard him send his man out to make a phone call. ‘Murph can you see Malone’s man?’  
‘Yeah, 5’8” brown hair, walks with a limp.’  
Doyle didn’t need to consult the file in front of him – Seamus Riley, bomb maker and wanted for several attacks on the mainland. ‘Seamus Riley, cheers Murph.’ While Riley was out of the room Charlie could be heard arguing with Malone over the presence of Riley.  
‘Malone, I’m not going to tell you again – he is seriously pissing me off, one more word from him….’  
‘Calm down Duffy, leave me to deal with him.’  
After several minutes Riley walked back into the room and whispered something to Malone. Just before nine there was a knock on the door and Malone told Charlie to open it which caused Riley to start up again.  
‘That Bodie, Murph?’  
‘Yeah.’  
Doyle heard Charlie’s voice harshly telling Bodie to turn and face the wall while he was frisked – it all sounded quite odd to hear Charlie speaking to his mate in such an off-hand way but he knew it was all a show for Malone. The next hour passed with Charlie and Malone arguing over the money and what Martell, through Bodie, was prepared to supply to aid Malone’s war. At one point Doyle thought what he heard what sounded like punches being thrown but he couldn’t be sure because of the raised voices and also the fact that it had started to rain heavily; it appeared that Riley didn’t like being told what to do by Charlie. By ten things seemed to have calmed down and a meeting was arranged for the following afternoon at an old warehouse which they had managed to secure for the op.  
‘Anson?’  
‘Yeah?’  
‘Party’s over, you ready?’  
‘Up and running.’  
‘Murph?’  
‘Yeah which one do you want to me to take?’  
‘Anson you take Riley, Murph you stick with Malone.’  
Charlie walked out of the pub, pulled on the helmet and sat on the bike watching the others leave, glad to be out in the fresh damp air. ‘Doyle?’  
‘Go ahead Charlie?’  
‘Did you get all that?’  
‘Apart from when you went out to the phone, couldn’t hear Malone and Riley what with the noise in the pub. We only caught bits and pieces after Bodie arrived because of the rain – things sounded a bit tense in there.’  
‘Riley got a bit mouthy about me handing over the money there and then, thought he could bully me so I decided to remind them about my reputation – he should have two black eyes by tomorrow, set off by a nicely busted nose. I told Malone that he would get his money when Bodie delivers the goods, that way we keep control of things’ replied Charlie.  
‘I’ll bet that went down well’ Doyle chuckled.  
‘Tough shit, I don’t take kindly to jumped up little pricks like Riley. Look mate I’m about done in, I’m off. Who’s got my tail tonight?’  
‘Bodie.’ Doyle could picture Charlie’s face as he heard the groan. ‘Be good and don’t lead him on too wild a ride, mate.’  
‘Would I be that cruel?’  
Charlie waited until Malone and Riley had left with their respective tails, then started the bike and set off, checking that Bodie had slipped in behind. Fifteen minutes later Charlie watched Martell’s battered old transit van park just past the entrance to the garden flat, fully expecting Bodie to pull away again once the bike was safely behind the locked gates. Realising that the CI5 man wanted to say his piece Charlie waited wearily by the open door.  
‘Suppose you won’t leave until you’ve said what you came here for. Are you coming in or what?’  
Bodie looked up and down the deserted street and followed Charlie into the flat setting the double locks on the way.  
‘Drink?’ asked Charlie removing the leather jacket and dropping it by the door.  
‘No thanks,’ replied Bodie.  
Charlie walked over to the window collecting a new bottle of scotch from the table on the way and turned round to face the agent. ‘Sure you don’t want some?’ Bodie shook his head. ‘Pity, I thought we could make a toast to old times!’  
‘What the hell are you playing at Price?’  
‘Doing my job! Have you any idea how long it’s taken me to get this operation set up?’  
‘You? You set this whole thing up?’  
‘It’s taken me nearly three years to get to this point – the last six months to get people to trust me, not to mention the time it’s taken to gather all the intelligence on both sides of the water. Do you have any idea who the real player is in all this, why Willis has been trying to get in on the action? Cowley assured me that the Minister personally warned Willis off this and that CI5 had to be the ones to provide protection rather than anyone else even though by rights it should have gone to him. This op goes down and the mainland threats go away.’  
‘So Malone’s the target then?’  
Charlie stood and looked at Bodie and laughed, ‘You really have got no idea have you? Who do you think requested CI5’s help in this – 14 Company. We have been trying to get the man behind Malone, and others like him, for years and finally we’ve got the opportunity to put him away for good. Every time I’ve gone undercover as Charlie Duffy it has lead me one step closer to this man - we nearly had him three years ago in Belfast but someone made me, that’s why this time it’s taken so long to set up this deal. I’ve had to re-establish all the contacts I lost when I was in hospital and re-establish Duffy’s reputation.’  
‘So who is he then, this Mr Big?’  
‘Trust me Bodie, I’d tell you if I could’ Charlie turned away and took a long pull from the bottle of scotch. ‘This deal will go down tomorrow or …..’  
‘You’ve changed Price, you’ve become a bastard just like Duffy – you think you can ride rough-shod over everyone just….’  
‘Changed? Of course I’ve fucking changed! Jesus Bodie, even you’d have changed if you’d been through what I went through’ Charlie banged the bottle down on the side and ripped off the shirt and stood in front of the shocked CI5 man. ‘It took them three months just to put me back together again Bodie and then another six months recovering, getting back to how I was before but you can’t ever get back to how you were before. Only they don’t tell you about the pain and how to live with it, how it eats at you every day and reminds you of what you used to be and what you are now. Do you know how many bones they broke – they hit me with an iron bar for fucks sake. I had to learn to walk again because of what they did to me. Oh, but I forgot, you haven’t seen any of these scars have you, you cut and ran, left me to get over it by myself. Take a good look’ snapped Charlie turning round slowly so all the scars could be seen, ‘they’re just the ones you can see! Look closely Bodie, can you imagine what the scars feel like, how I can still feel the bones breaking, the cigarettes burning? The doctors keep telling me I’m one of the lucky ones, because I can do my job but they don’t have to look at my body and remember how I got each scar. They don’t wake up every day wondering if today is going to be the day that my body starts to fail me. It fucking hurts Bodie, every fucking day it feels like it did three years ago it never gets any easier, it never stops! Do you want to see where they branded me before they….’  
‘Fuck Charlie, I had no idea….’  
‘No you wouldn’t would you! Now get out before one of us says something we’ll regret!’  
‘Charlie, hold on….’  
‘Go on get out!’ Charlie shouted at Bodie.  
As Bodie closed the door behind him he heard the sound of breaking glass as an empty bottle hit the wall in the flat.

Saturday 3 May 1980  
Charlie woke up the next morning feeling hungover and decidedly tired. There was an empty bottle on the table beside the bed and as Charlie walked into the living room the remains of another bottle lay shattered on floor by the front door. Slowly Charlie pieced together the events of the night before and realised that any attempt at reconciliation between the two of them was now almost certainly lost for ever. Charlie bitterly regretted that anger and hurt had lead to Bodie walking out and wished the harsh words could be taken back. Charlie thought about contacting Doyle to see if he fancied a run but decided the risk of them being seen together was too great. Instead Charlie dressed in an old t-shirt and the leathers, grabbed the bike keys and headed out of town against the flow the commuters making for their offices. A little after nine Charlie parked the bike on the front in Southend and walked out to the end of the pier. The container ships plying up and down the river had a strangely calming effect on Charlie but soon the chill began to make itself known. Time for a late breakfast, thought Charlie making for one of many river front cafes. Staring into the mug of coffee, Charlie thought back over the last sixteen years being sent here or there at the whim of others, maybe it was time for a change. Charlie decided that the time had come for Duffy to retire. The trip to the training facility had been enjoyable and the idea of passing on experience to others had a certain appeal, especially if that experience could help save someone’s life. Maybe there could be a place in CI5 for Charlie Price but it would depend on whether Bodie would be prepared to accept the Operator and leave the past where it was. Feeling better for the filling breakfast and a couple of mugs of strong black coffee, Charlie turned the bike back towards London and joined the mass of humanity going about their hum-drum lives.

When Malone and his cronies pulled up in an old unmarked transit van just after three, Charlie was already at the warehouse waiting in the shadows on the bike, helmet resting on the fuel tank. As Malone approached Charlie could see the Irish man looking for the rucksack containing the money.  
‘Duffy?’ called Malone.  
‘What?’  
‘Where’s your man?’  
‘He’ll be here, it’s early yet.’  
‘Hand over the money, I want to count it before he gets here.’  
‘Look Malone, I told you last night you’ll get it, how many more times do I have to tell you we do it my way or not at all. You’ve done your homework on me, your man in Belfast will have told you what happens to people who question my methods.’ Charlie climbed off the bike, walked over and stood in front of Malone, pulling out the Browning pointing it at Malone’s crutch ‘Or do you need reminding of my reputation – I was easy on Riley last night but he left me feeling slightly pissed off to say the least, so maybe you just better shut your mouth or you might regret it.’  
Malone blanched and looked around ‘There won’t be any need for that, I just want to make sure it’s all there. You can put the gun away, there won’t be any trouble.’  
‘Don’t you trust me Malone?’ growled Charlie, still pointing the gun at Malone.  
‘I’ve know all about you Duffy and your methods – I don’t trust you, you’re a mad bugger.’  
Charlie grinned at Malone and his men, watching them sweat. ‘You don’t get where I am by being nice, pal, so if you don’t mind I’ll just hang on to the money until Martell’s man gets here, if it’s all the same with you.’  
Charlie checked the time and nodded to Malone as a battered van drove into the warehouse pulling up alongside them. Bodie stepped out of the van, taking in the gun in Charlie’s hand and the look on Malone’s face. ‘Trouble, Duffy?’  
‘Your buyer here doesn’t like my rules.’  
‘I’m not interested in your petty squabbles Malone, as long as I get paid. Duffy’s word has always been good enough when we’ve dealt with each other in the past. I suggest you do as Duffy says.’ Bodie walked to the back of the van and opened the doors ‘Merchandise is all in here just like you ordered.’  
‘Seamus, get in there and check it out. Duffy?’  
Duffy threw the rucksack at Malone, slipping the gun back into the holster. ‘Are we done here?’  
Malone nodded, busily counting the cash.  
‘Right, tell Marty I’ll be in touch about the next order.’ Charlie walked over to the bike, climbed on it, started the engine and sat watching Malone and his men.  
Riley nodded to one of the others to back their van up to Martell’s to enable them to transfer the crates easily. Charlie sat and waited as Malone’s men removed the crates from Martell’s van and stacked them in theirs, watching them check the items off the list that Malone had supplied.  
‘All here Boss, just like we ordered – fucking hell they’ve even checked in a couple of Mossbergs for good luck!’ Said Riley climbing down from the back of the van clutching one of the pistols and sliding a magazine into the grip. Suddenly Riley turned towards Charlie, raised the pistol and the loud retort of the gunshots echoed round the warehouse. Charlie slumped over the fuel tank of the bike trying to reach the Browning in the holster but Riley had managed to put a round through the Operators left shoulder leaving Charlie unable to move enough to reach.

Bodie flew out of Martell’s van, radio in one hand and gun in the other ‘Priority A3 agent down, repeat agent down, ambulance, now’ he shouted as he shot Riley dropping him like a stone. Malone ran towards the transit van shouting at the men to get it started as he managed to get in the passenger side. Suddenly there was a crack of a rifle and the front tyre of the van exploded. Malone tried to grab the steering wheel in an attempt to turn the van round but a second shot shattered the windscreen showering him in shards of glass. A car slewed to a stop behind the van blocking its exit. Anson and Jax pulled Malone and the driver out pushing them up against the side of the van, arms twisted painfully up, legs spread, while Lucas and McCabe grabbed the others out of the back of the van.

Doyle and Murphy came running into the warehouse, ‘What happened?’  
‘Riley is what happened – took a couple of shots at Charlie. You and Murph go and help round up Malone and his cronies, I’ll deal with Charlie. Where’s that ambulance?’  
‘Should be on its way, keep me updated.’  
As Bodie approached the Operator, Charlie was still struggling to get off the bike. ‘Whoa hold on there mate, you need two legs to stand up.’  
‘Where’s Riley? I owe that bastard.’  
‘Riley’s dead, will you let me help you, you’re leaking like a sieve. For fucks sake Charlie stop trying to be a hero, stay still before you pass out.’  
Charlie looked at Bodie ‘What do you mean, pass out, the bullet only nicked my shoulder. Riley was mine, who shot him?’  
‘I did mate after he put two rounds in you – one in your shoulder and the other looks like a through and through in the leg, that’s why you can’t stand properly. Just wait for the ambulance to get here you’re not going anywhere in a hurry. Turn the engine off, its lucky Riley was a lousy shot and missed the tank or you’d be toast.’  
‘Lousy shot? Are you having a laugh Bodie coz I’m not! Get out of my way I want to make sure that bastards really dead.’  
Bodie grabbed Charlie as the Operator’s left leg gave out and helped Charlie down to the ground. ‘Now do you believe me? Shut up and apply some fucking pressure to stop the bleeding. I know it hurts but if you don’t stop it I will and I’m sure it’ll hurt twice as much if I do it.’  
‘So Einstein how do I manage that with only one working arm? Get me over there I’ve got to know for sure Riley’s dead, just fucking do it!’  
‘No fucking way, stay still or I’ll make you stay down. Why is it so important for you to check for yourself? Do you want me to knock you out, I will if I have to! Doyle get over here and give me a hand.’  
‘Seamus fucking Riley was responsible for this – a single bullet wasn’t good enough for him, he deserved to suffer for what he’s done!’  
Doyle ran over and immediately started to apply pressure to the bullet wound in Charlie’s leg which caused the Operator to shout and swear even louder.  
‘For fucks sake Doyle, how much do you weigh? It feels like an elephant on my leg, carry on like that and I’ll end up loosing it. Fuck, fuck, fuck!’  
‘Do you want to keep the leg? If so shut up and let me get on with it until the ambulance gets here,’ replied Doyle.  
‘What are you on about, responsible for this – are you telling me he was this mysterious Mr Big that everyone wanted to take down? Are you sure you’re not bleeding anywhere else you’re not making any sense.’  
‘I asked Doyle to do a full background on one Seamus Riley – tell him what you told me and maybe this idiot might finally understand why he was mine to deal with.’  
‘Seamus Riley born 1940 in the Ardoyne area of Belfast, joined the PIRA 1970 and implicated in the Bloody Friday bombings in 1972, believed to be active with the Second Battalion based in the Falls Road/Clonard/Ballymurphy district of West Belfast. Info suggests that he became an enforcer and used to target well known locals when Army activity in the area increased. Riley was active during the time that Charlie here was working for both MRF and The Det and would certainly have heard of Charlie Duffy. Charlie asked me to check him because there was something familiar about Riley when they met – turns out that it is highly likely that Riley was involved in the kidnap at a road block back in 1977, along with another unknown male accomplice. No witnesses came forward to identify the men nor the vehicle they were driving. The kidnap victim was found dumped near the kidnap site eight days later badly beaten and left for dead. The victim was airlifted to the Royal Victoria Hospital in Belfast in an Army helicopter. No details were released - no one knew if they survived or not, yet another statistic of the Troubles.’  
Bodie turned and looked at Charlie, the colour draining from his face realisation dawning on him as to why Charlie had taken on the mission to take down Malone and Riley.  
‘Yeah, now you know why the bastard was mine, he deserved to suffer for what he did, death was far too good for him! That piece of shit deserved to die not just for that but for every other person who he tortured and left for dead – those who have no known grave discarded like rubbish.’  
‘Was Malone the other one involved?’ Asked Bodie.  
‘Who knows but at least he’s going to be off the streets for a long time!’ Replied Charlie slowly as the shock of the gun shot wounds began to make itself known. ‘Where’s the ambulance, they’re taking their time.’  
Just as Charlie began to start shaking and sweating the noise of the sirens grew and the ambulance came into view directed by Murphy.

Sunday 4 May 1980

 

Charlie leaned back against the pillow mindful of the pull of the stitches and thought back over the last twenty four hours – the revelations that Seamus Riley had been one of those involved in the kidnap three years ago had affected the Operator deeply. The anger and frustration that he had been shot by Bodie did not help, if anything it added to the feelings since Charlie had not been able to inflict some form of retribution. Every broken bone and scar throbbed with the injustice of the recent events but overwhelmingly Charlie felt cheated by Riley’s death – once again Charlie was in hospital as a direct result of the other man’s actions, facing months of rehab. Charlie did not relish the prospect of the sessions of physio ahead which would be necessary to regain independence and movement. The doctors had advised the Operator that the road to recovery would be tough and one had even gone so far as to warn Charlie that there was no guarantee that the Operator’s leg would every fully heal due to the damage done by the bullet. Charlie realised that the time had come to make some tough decisions - the trip out to the training facility had served to help make up the Operator’s mind that now was the time to officially retire from The Det. Charlie knew that the CO would be aware of the state of affairs and that the operation had been completed successfully since Cowley had visited and said he would advise those who needed to know. Charlie wondered how long it would be before the Boss phoned, or worse still someone from The Det turned up and decided to try and change the Operator’s mind about retiring.

The morning passed slowly with no major interruptions apart from the usual hospital routine, the surgeon came in to check on the dressings and generally aggravate the wound sites – apparently it didn’t matter if they were military or civilian they all seemed to like to see their patients suffer.  
True to hospital tradition lunch arrived when Charlie was least hungry and it proved to be a truly frustrating affair – how someone thought that a person with the use of only one hand could possibly cut up meat was beyond the Operator’s comprehension. Not only was the meat beyond Charlie the rest of the meal looked particularly unappetising – watery mash and rock hard vegetables had never been a favourite. Charlie decided the best way to deal with the lack of a decent meal was to focus on something else, such as how to deal with the future. If leaving the Army was the only choice then it would be the first time in sixteen years that Charlie had been without any sort of security - no job, no income, no support network or close friends. Without those things Charlie would be lost. Living the life Charlie had it meant that secrecy and deceit had played a major part in building relationships - none of those made outside the Army had lasted, even family ties had long since been cut. 

With nothing better to do Charlie decided to make the most of the downtime and try to catch up on sleep – sleep and eat whenever the opportunity presented itself as you could never be sure when the next chance would come. 

A while later Charlie was aware that there was someone else in the room and automatically went to reach for the Browning.

‘Fuck’ grimaced Charlie as the pain shot through the Operator’s injured shoulder. ‘Get the fuck out before I call the nurse!’

‘Whoa, calm down mate, its just us’ said Bodie.

Charlie visibly relaxed recognising the two CI5 agents standing at the end of the bed. ‘What are you doing here? Who’s dealing with Malone and his cronies?’

‘Not your concern at the moment,’ said Doyle ‘you’re officially on the sick list so no work until Cowley says so.’

‘What’s it got to do with Cowley’ demanded Charlie ‘what about my CO and 14 Company?’

‘Ah, do you want to pass on the good news or not?’ Asked Doyle looking at his companion.

‘Think it might come better from you, I’m still not sure if I’m being spoken to or not’ replied Bodie.

‘Stop pissing around both of you and one of you just tell me what’s going on. I can’t exactly do much about it right now can I?’ Grumbled Charlie.

Doyle shrugged his shoulders and looked at Bodie. ‘Might be better coming from you mate, you’ve known each other longer, also you’re already persona non grata.’

Bodie looked from Charlie to Doyle and back again, not quite sure what to say.

‘Just spit it out Bodie, I can’t exactly kill you right now, maybe once I’m up and about but God knows when that will be!’

Bodie cleared his throat and began ‘right, apparently Cowley, your CO, 14 Company and Major Nairn have been discussing your future at length.......’

‘My future, what fucking future? What’s it got to do with them, I don’t even know about my future so how can they? Right now my future looks pretty bleak – have any of the medical staff spoken to you?’

‘Look clam down, we’re only the messengers. Surely things can’t be that bad. Let me just tell you the way things are looking right now and then you can tell us what you’ve been told by the doctors.’

‘For fucks sake just get it over with then, its not like I’ve got much say in things by the sounds of it!’

‘Right, as of yesterday you’ve been seconded to CI5 for the foreseeable but you will still be paid by 14 Company and the Army. It would appear that they seem to think you are, how can I put it......’

‘Over the hill, compromised, a liability, off my head?’ Charlie laughed bitterly.

‘No, nothing like that. You’ve been undercover for almost nine years, living a double life without a break, for once someone has seen what a life like yours can do to a person. You need a break Charlie, you need to try and put Belfast and Riley behind you – you can’t do that if 14 Company keep on using Duffy. They are concerned about you and part of the deal is that you will see our resident shrink Dr Ross. I know, don’t start, none of us like it but we have to do it. Cowley is sorting out the garden flat for you, I took the bike round there last night and secured it so don’t worry about it.’

Charlie looked at the two agents trying to take in what Bodie had said – seconded to CI5, no more double life, it would take a lot of getting used to but it did have a certain appeal. Charlie realised this could actually be a chance to build a new life and finally put down some roots outside of the Army. It would also give the Operator time to recover from the injuries without rushing to get fit – it appeared that CI5 cared more for its agents than the Army or 14 Company did! There were however, two problems that Charlie could see, one was agreeing to meet with this Dr Ross - usually Charlie saw the same Army shrink and whilst not exactly pulling the wool over his eyes, was able to bluff through the six monthly evaluations. The other was trying to forge a new relationship with Bodie - would it be possible or would it lead to further problems which could threaten both their roles in CI5.

‘I take it this is a done deal’ asked Charlie, ‘or do I get a choice?’

‘Whatever you decide the powers that be have said until you are declared fit for active duty with whoever, you are part of CI5 and can live in the garden flat’ replied Doyle who had been watching Charlie’s reaction to the news closely. ‘Think things through, you’ve got time to weigh things up before you need to make a final decision on your future.’

‘Talking of the future, have the doctors said any idea of how long you’re likely to be in here for?’ Asked Bodie.

‘Well the good news is that the shoulder should heal really quickly with no major lasting effects, but.......’ Charlie paused ‘the leg might be a different story.’

‘Why? It was a straight through and through so surely it was just a question of stitching you back up’ queried Doyle.

‘The bullet did go straight through but it nicked the bone on the way, also there was a lot of scar tissue where it hit me. The doctor said that they will have to wait to see how it heals but there is a strong possibility that I will be left with a limp due to the bone being weakened having been so badly damaged in the past. At the moment though they are fairly sure that they’ve got the infection risk under control but given I was wearing thick bike leathers I’m on heavy duty antibiotics – the leathers were pretty old and disgusting so anything’s possible.’ Charlie looked away, dreading the questions which Doyle was bound to ask about the previous injury to the Operator’s leg. ‘By the way what happened to my helmet and jacket?’

‘I took them to the flat with the bike’ said Bodie, ‘I know how much the jacket means to you, you must have had it since we were at Aldershot, if I remember it cost you an arm and a leg.’

Charlie smiled gratefully at Bodie and at the memory of buying the jacket several years ago ‘You’ve got a good memory if you can remember that, didn’t I buy it somewhere up here in London?’

‘Probably, all I can remember is you being pleased that you’d managed to get a really good deal – poor bloke didn’t know what had hit him.’  
‘So what did happen in Belfast’ asked Doyle deciding that now was as good a time as any to get his head bitten off.

Bodie and Charlie looked at each other. ‘It’s up to you mate, its your chance to get if off your chest before Ross digs deep – might be better to tell us first and see how it affects you.’

Charlie looked at each agents in turn debating where to begin and exactly what to tell them about the events that had transpired three years ago. Just as Charlie was about to start explaining some background with regard to the work of 14 Company, Bodie’s radio started beeping.

‘3-7 receiving.’

‘You’re to report back to base – Major Nairn needs you on standby. Bring Doyle in with you.’

‘Ok. What does the Regiment want with me?’ Bodie asked. 

‘No idea 3-7 just that your presence has been requested asap’ replied control.

‘Sorry but duty calls, think about things. Behave yourself and do as you’re told, like a good little soldier.’

Saturday 10 May 1980

The flat was warm and Charlie sank gratefully on to the sofa – Murphy had been kind enough to collect the Operator from hospital and he’d also ensured that there was food and drink in the fridge and cupboards. Charlie was tired but pleased to have escaped the confines of the hospital – like most people the Operator had an aversion to them. Charlie, surprisingly having spent so long in the Army, also had an aversion to strict routines. Fortunately the shoulder and leg were both healing well, the stitches having been removed just as Murphy arrived to collect Charlie. It appeared that with gentle exercise and continued physio there would be no lasting obvious effects, other than scarring but the doctors had warned Charlie that excessive strain could cause the limp to become apparent. As Charlie sat and relaxed the leg made itself known - climbing in and out of the car coupled with having the stitches removed had caused an annoying dull ache. Charlie checked the clock, still too early for a pain killer so the Operator decided that a shower might ease the ache, provided that the water held out long enough. Charlie had just hobbled into the bathroom, turned on the shower and got undressed when there was the sound of the front door opening. Grabbing the Browning from the pile of clothes and turning off the shower, the Operator moved quietly behind the door.

‘Well it looks like Murphy got Charlie home’ said Doyle pointing to the bikers jacket draped over the back of one of the dining chairs.

‘Sounds like the shower is on, better just wait, I don’t fancy disturbing........’ replied Bodie.

Charlie threw open the bathroom door and limped into the living room, still clutching the Browning. ‘How the fuck did you get in?’

‘Spare keys, ever heard of them’ laughed Bodie ‘you might want to put something on mate, the neighbours might get a shock seeing you like that!’

‘Ha, ha very funny Bodie. Anyway not much to see apart from scars’ replied Charlie turning quickly to go back into the bathroom. As Charlie turned the Operator’s leg gave out and banged against the doorframe. ‘Fuck’ swore Charlie as Doyle bent down to help the Operator up. ‘Leave me alone, I don’t need your help, I’m not an invalid I can manage!’

‘I wouldn’t bother mate you’ll only get a load of abuse for your trouble, been there and tried, our Charlie’s very independent and bloody minded, so I’d leave well alone if I was you’ said Bodie.

‘You can fuck off as well! One of you could at least offer to get me some clothes’ groused Charlie.

Doyle went into the bedroom and managed to find an old tracksuit which would be easy for Charlie to put on.

‘Seriously mate, are you ok?’ Bodie enquired.

‘Yeah, I’m having a ball! Stop fussing, I just need to sit down for a minute’ replied Charlie. The Operator managed to climb up and sit on the sofa and slowly get dressed in the tracksuit. Charlie seemed totally unfazed about having crawled across the room stark naked in front of the two CI5 agents.

‘Do you want a tablet? Doyle asked.

‘No can’t have one for at least a couple of hours. Get me a drink instead, Murphy’s hidden a bottle of scotch somewhere, find it and pour us all a glass.’

Doyle looked at Bodie who simply shrugged his shoulders and said ‘Get us all one, it’ll save any arguments if you just do it.’

Doyle found the bottle and poured them each a drink, making sure Charlie got the smallest measure.

‘Cheers’ said Charlie ‘just what the doctor ordered.’

‘So,’ said Doyle ‘What did happen in Belfast, you were going to tell us, I’m not leaving this time til one of you gives me the full story.’ 

Charlie looked at Bodie ‘Is he always this bloody persistent? I’d hate to be on the other side of the law to him.’

‘Like I said, maybe telling us like this might be the way to start exorcising the demons – you can bet Ross will be a lot harder to persuade that life is back to normal, well normal for you’ said Bodie crossing his eyes and poking his tongue out at Charlie.

‘Prat’ laughed Charlie. ‘Give me a hand.’ Once upright Charlie limped slowly over to the French doors clutching the glass of scotch and stood looking out at the bike not really seeing the bleak London skyline but staring back into the dark days of Belfast.

‘Ok, if I’m going to tell you I need you both to agree that you’ll let me tell it in my own way without interruptions, I know you’ll have questions but they will have to wait until I’ve finished. Do you agree? If you don’t you can get up and leave now!’

Bodie and Doyle looked at each other and then Charlie and nodded, realising that this was something Charlie needed to do.

‘The op in question began on 14 March 1977 at Holywood with a briefing for all those involved including the two SAS protection details – one under Bodie and the other under another Sergeant from the Paras, Jimmy Keller....’

Out of Charlie’s sight Doyle raised his eyebrow at Bodie who simply shook his head.

‘As we left the briefing I caught Keller shooting his mouth off to Bodie in the corridor about to announce to all and sundry who I was – rule number one in The Det was, is, no one knows names, Regiments or history – maybe with hindsight I should have demanded that Keller be removed or the mission be scrubbed but as the senior operator I decided to run it with Jimmy and Bodie’s roles reversed. This particular Op was running with two experienced Operators, me and Kev, in different parts of the city. Kev became Jimmy’s responsibility. We arrived at the docks appearing to have come off the early morning arrival from Liverpool and went our separate ways – that was the last I saw of him.’

‘I made my way to Inkerman Street which had become my usual address in the city. Things progressed with the op as was expected until 28 March when I overheard a conversation in the Divis Castle concerning the imminent arrival of someone high up in the Brigade. I passed the info back as per the SOP in the hope that someone would be able to fill in the gaps and set up some surveillance on the major players. The next afternoon I decided to head out Andersonstown and got caught up at a new checkpoint – at the time I thought it had been set up as a result of the info I had fed back but I didn’t know for sure, it could have been completely random. While I was sat in the traffic, a tatty old van forced its way in behind me which was out of character given that it was in direct view of the checkpoint. I knew something was off but not what. Even being on the bike I couldn’t get out of the queue without showing out so I had to just sit and wait for whatever was going to happen.’

Charlie turned round carefully and gestured for the glass to be refilled before continuing, still not really aware of anything other than the past.

‘Within a minute or so of the van appearing there was a distinctive crump and the car in front of me disappeared in a blinding flash. The explosion caught me as I was trying to turn the bike and as a result it threw me head first into the kerb knocking me unconscious. The next hing I knew was coming to, cuffed and hooded being shouted out by an unknown male. I had no idea how long I’d been out for, where I was or who had taken me, all I knew was that things had gone very fucking wrong. During training you are taught that the first few hours are the best time to stage an escape – you’ll be at your fittest and your reactions will still be sharp, after 24 hours the law of diminishing returns kicks in very quickly, depending on the conditions you’re kept in. Unfortunately the people that had taken me had been dealt with at some point by the security services as they went straight into the five techniques.’

This time Charlie turned round slowly but still wobbled on the weak leg and Doyle dragged a chair over for the Operator to sit on. Charlie turned the chair so it was facing the French doors so as not to have to look at the others as the next bit was going to be even harder to relive.

‘Thanks. Over the next few days, I’m still not sure how long they had me for, things went from bad to worse if that was possible. Daily beatings, lack of food and water, being constantly kept in the dark and being used as an ashtray – plus being constantly wet as they decided it was fun to piss all over me at regular intervals. As a result I developed bronchitis and then started pissing blood from being repeatedly kicked in the kidneys.’ Charlie stopped for a few minutes before continuing taking the time to try and remain detached. Charlie’s voice started shaking ‘That last day I remember being dragged into a different room which was actually warm, there was a real fire going, and thinking that the end had come. Suddenly the hood was removed for the first time since I’d been snatched which in my mind signalled that they meant for me to die in that room - I couldn’t stand or breathe so it was easy for them to force me over a wooden horse and tie me down. Part of me was glad the end had come, at least I wouldn’t have to worry about betraying anyone, everything I knew remained locked in my head and would go to the grave with me. As they tied me down I still tried to fight them, how could I not it was what we’re trained to do, fight to the death, yours or theirs. All I managed to do was dislocate my shoulder - at that point I couldn’t cope anymore and I shut down completely. I must have passed out at some point whilst they were having their fun because the next thing I remember is being branded with a poker.’

Charlie stopped speaking and just sat on the chair staring out of the window shaking violently. The two CI5 agents looked at each other in horror and Bodie made to go over to help the distressed Operator.

‘Don’t,’ said Charlie ‘don’t come any nearer just give me the bottle. Other things happened in that room but they’ve got nothing to do with either of you. I know they dumped me back where they took me from, but only because I’ve read the report, same reason I know they had me for a week. Things are sketchy from then on - I vaguely remember coming to on the helo en route to hospital - until they got me back to the UK, apparently I spent a week at the Royal Victoria while they got me stable enough to be moved.’

‘So how do you know it was Riley, did you see him?’

‘I never saw their faces, if I did I was so far out of it I can’t remember. When I met with Malone at the Derry Arms I recognised the voice or thought I did, you confirmed it when you gave me the background on Riley. The height and build were right but it was the voice – when you’ve had someone screaming obscenities at you for a week it tends to stick in your mind, especially under those circumstances.’

Bodie and Doyle looked at each other shocked by the Operator’s revelations – they had both seen some of Charlie’s scars but neither of them realised just how brutal the events that had caused them had been nor the effect that it had. Although both of them had been injured during their careers they had not suffered the devastating traumas that Charlie had.

‘Are you up to answering a couple of questions I’ve got’ Asked Doyle ‘or do you want to call it a day?’

‘Depends on what you want to ask – anything about the last day is off limits and what happened to me will go with me to the grave, my part in the Op is sealed. I’ve told you this much so what can it hurt?’ Charlie got up and started pacing backwards and forwards not noticing the aching leg.

‘Ok, how long have you been working in and around West Belfast?’

‘I was born in a two up, two down right in the centre of the Ballymurphy estate and we lived there until I was ten when my parents and brothers moved to Liverpool. I refused to leave and they left me with my gran, Ma Duffy, which seemed to suit everyone – I think they were struggling looking after the five of us. I used to see them during the holidays but hated every minute - being the middle one meant I was always picked on by my brothers, where do you think I learnt to fight? My first time back after joining up was in late 71, given my background the powers that be seemed to think it was worth their while using it to their advantage. I suppose most of my career has been spent in and around Belfast building on that background - my parents are both dead and none of my brothers have set foot over there since they left. It’s surprising what people will believe when you don’t correct them - my family in Belfast think the reason I was disowned is because of my loyalty to the cause, who am I to disabuse them of that?’

‘That would explain why you’re able to drink in the Divis then’ said Bodie. ‘Most undercover agents show out as soon as they set foot in the city but with your background I can see why 14 Company are reluctant to let go of Duffy!’

‘The other thing is you mentioned the five techniques – what exactly did you mean by that?’

‘During training us and the SAS are taught resistance to interrogation techniques and undergo the same things that a suspect would. The five techniques are defined as prolonged wall standing, hooding, subjection to noise, deprivation of sleep and deprivation of food and drink, the idea being to induce severe mental and physical exhaustion in particular. Bodie get over there and show Doyle the stress position.’

Bodie went over and stood with his hands behind his back as if cuffed, then bent his legs half way into a squat. ‘Imagine doing this for hours on end not being able to straighten your legs, arms cuffed tightly to pull your shoulders out of line, or move in any way plus don’t forget you’re in the dark due to the hood over your head. That’s the first stage, you then add in the noise or in my case the total lack of it, next comes the withholding of food and water – how long do you think you’d last? And then you can add the physical abuse - beatings, burning etc. That’s what those bastards did to me - most people will tell you anything after about a day, I was there for a week!’

‘Fucking hell, how the hell did you survive without betraying the others?’

‘Believe me by the end, Doyle, I was ready to crack but they made a big mistake in that they should have done what they did the last day sooner, if they had I would have. When they removed the hood they gave me the way out – I knew I could die with a clear conscience, I’d made peace with myself somewhere in my confused mind. By that last day I was so ill and hurting that if you’d asked me about Sergeant Charlie Price I couldn’t have told you anything about them.’

As Charlie turned round at the kitchen door Bodie noticed that the was a fresh patch of blood on the Operators leg ‘Oi you dumb crud! Sit down, you’ve made your leg bleed when you fell! What the fuck are we going to do with you.’

Charlie looked down and saw the fresh red patch ‘For fucks sake, there’s no way I’m going back to the hospital, one of you’ll have to sort it out’ said Charlie stripping off the tracksuit trousers revealing that the wound had reopened, all the pacing around couldn’t have helped.

Doyle went into the bathroom and came back with the standard CI5 issue first aid kit which could be found in every agents flat rifling through it until he found a dressing large enough to cover the open wound. ‘Turn over slightly, I need to look at the back of your leg.’ Charlie obliged and Doyle was relieved to see that the exit wound was clean and dry. ‘Ok, its just where they went in and tidied things up, the back is fine. Stay still let me patch you up again.’

‘What the fuck are we going to do with you Price? I don’t see how you can be trusted alone until you’ve healed – looks like someone is going to have to babysit you for a while’ said Bodie. 

‘No fucking way are you setting up any sort of roster – I’ll be fine, I told you I’m not an invalid!’

‘Do you think Cowley will let you, or us for that matter, get away with doing yourself more harm, you’re supposed to be taking things easy. Look just let one of us stay over tonight and after that you’ll be on your own unless you shout for help, deal?’

Charlie looked at Doyle and then Bodie, realising that Bodie was right – Cowley would flip out if he found out about the fresh damage to the Operators leg. The Operator also realised that Bodie knew that there was no way that Charlie could be left alone having revealed what had happened in Belfast – the demons would be would be back as strong as they were three years ago.

‘Ok, ok I give in. Just one night and I’ll take the sofa – whoever stays can have the bed, that way I won’t disturb them too much.’

‘Right’ said Doyle, ‘Chinese or Indian?’

Saturday 10 May 1980

After the three of them had eaten, Charlie decided to go and have the shower that had been rudely interrupted several hours before. Afterwards the Operator made sure to dry the wound thoroughly and re-dress the area knowing that Doyle would insist on checking, it seemed to have stopped bleeding for the time being but it still looked red and puffy. Charlie decided that it would be best to say nothing otherwise Doyle would be trying to drag one of the CI5 doctors out to check things over. Charlie knew from experience that the wound would heal in its own time without any further intervention, it wasn’t the Operator’s first wound and probably wouldn’t be the last. 

‘You ok in there?’ Called Doyle.

‘Don’t start I’m just coming out’ replied Charlie opening the door and walking carefully over to the sofa. ‘So have you decided who’s drawn the short straw?’

Bodie turned and looked sheepishly at Charlie ‘that’ll be me I’m afraid, look if that’s going to be a problem I’m sure we can swap can’t we Doyle?’

Charlie took a deep breath ‘no don’t worry I’m sure we can manage not to kill each other for one night. I’m joking, killing you would take far too much effort at the moment – Cowley wouldn’t take kindly to being an agent down either.’

‘Cheers – I’ll sleep happier tonight knowing that mate. You can stop laughing mate, you really don’t know Charlie do you if you think its a joke.’

‘Don’t involve me Bodie, you’re on your own but I wouldn’t turn your back just yet, my money’s on Charlie even with a dodgy leg.’

‘Some mate you are thought you were meant to watch my back for me?’

‘Like I said this one’s all down to you Bodie’ said Doyle turning to Charlie ‘you look all done in mate, I’ll leave you two to it. Try and get some sleep if you can, he’ll do a good job of watching your back – I can vouch for him on that score.’

Charlie got up and walked Doyle out into the courtyard. ‘Thanks for not judging me today I appreciate it.’

‘How can I judge you for doing your job? I don’t know how you managed, I know there’s no way I could have done what you did. Don’t shut him out – you need to talk that’s why I’m leaving. Sort things out before its too late’ said Doyle closing the gate behind him.

Charlie locked the gate and stood in the courtyard next to the bike looking in through the open French doors at Bodie – the Operator realised that what Doyle said was true, life was too short to carry on as things were, they had been given a chance to try and build some sort friendship.

As Charlie came back in Bodie got up and said ‘I’ll lock up, go and sit down there’s a drink on the floor for you.’

‘Cheers I know how hard this is for both of us – leave if you want I’ll be fine, go on. I know you don’t want to be here, can’t say I’m thrilled either about it.’

‘For God’s sake Charlie, why can’t you just accept that for once maybe you shouldn’t be left on your own?’

‘Why I was left alone last time and I coped fine then!’ Shouted Charlie.

‘You call hitting the bottle as soon as you could walk coping, well that’s not fine even in our line of work’ countered Bodie.

‘Been digging the dirt have we? I might have guessed you’d do something like that. Let me see – Peter Skellen yes? There’s no way you’d have gone to Nairn and he wouldn’t have been able to tell you anything anyway.’

Bodie turned round to face Charlie, the anger and frustration evident on his face. He walked slowly over to Charlie, pulled up a chair and sat down directly in front of the Operator. ‘Listen Charlie, I’m done fighting with you, let me say my piece and if you’re still unwilling to move on I’ll leave you alone. If you want to stay in CI5 I won’t cause you any trouble, do you understand? Do we have a deal?

‘I don’t know, really I don’t know Bodie. I’m tired of all this, fighting and hating, pretending to be someone I’m not but I don’t know how or if I can move on. Say what you’ve got to say, I can’t make any promises but I will listen.’ Bodie could see the emotions on Charlie’s face and he knew how much the day had taken out of the Operator.

‘I’m sorry maybe now’s not the best time to try and sort this out but......’

Charlie interrupted him ‘don’t go there! I agree but this last week has made me realise that I need to put the past behind me and move on. Seeing your name on the briefing was a shock – it brought back too many memories. It also made me face up to things about myself, things I didn’t want to see. Do you know I really don’t like what I see when I look in the mirror - all I see is this hard bastard prepared to ride rough shod over everyone just to get results. Like you’ve said I’ve turned into Duffy, I’m not a nice person to know Bodie. We both need to face up to what happened in Belfast and stop apportioning the blame - I think deep down we both know events got out of hand through neither of our faults but we’re both too pig-headed to admit it.’

‘Speak for yourself.’ Bodie realised he’d said the wrong thing as soon as the words were out of his mouth. ‘Ok, ok that was a joke, don’t look like that – you know what I’m like when it comes to stuff like this, I try to bluff my way out.’

‘Fuck you William Andrew Phillip Bodie! For once in your life face up to what you are and grow up. You’re just as much of a bastard as I am – still a jungle rat except now yours is made of concrete.’ Bodie looked at Charlie mouth agape. ‘Stop catching flies and get on with what you’ve got to say.’

‘I know I’m not perfect but at least I try to do what’s right these days. Yes I did go and see Peter, not to dig up dirt as you seem to think but to try and find out what happened after I left Belfast, to find out some of what you went through. Peter gave me facts, nothing more. I was worried about what wasn’t in the briefing and he told me you’d been back in Belfast. I was concerned about how that might affect you and yes, I was worried about how you’d react to seeing me and us having to work together. I wanted answers so we could try and avoid a situation like the other night. Our friendship before Belfast meant a lot to me and I’d hoped it might to you.’

‘Maybe I over-reacted when I saw you but sometimes Duffy is hard to switch off. Don’t forget I’m not used to working this side of the water – in Belfast I am Duffy from the moment I leave Holywood, there’s no swapping identities over there. Here sometimes the people get a little blurred shall we say.’

‘So who is Charlie Duffy?’

‘God you sound like Doyle, when did you start questioning everything?’

‘Probably around the time I got partnered with an ex-copper.’

‘Do you really want to know who Duffy is? I can tell you now you won’t like what you hear – in fact I can almost guarantee it will destroy our friendship.’

‘Let me be the judge of that – don’t forget I know you, both at work and outside, we go back a long way mate. I’ve seen what you are capable of and I’m still here. There are times when I might not like you Charlie, but I don’t think I could hate you.’

Charlie looked at Bodie and realised he was right – he deserved to know the truth if they had any hope of working together.

‘Ok, get the bottle and pour me a decent drink this time.’ Glass refilled Charlie sat back on the sofa, bad leg propped up on the cushions. ‘I am Charlie Duffy, the only place Charlie Price exists is in the official papers relating to work, my flat, even the bike is registered under both names. As far as CI5, the Army and 14 Company are concerned Duffy is my undercover name. Charlie Duffy is what I would have become if I hadn’t left Belfast when I was sixteen and come over here.’

‘You don’t know that for a fact....’

‘Believe me Bodie, I do! I’m an Irish Catholic born and raised in Belfast how do you think things would have panned out if I’d stayed? I’d be one of three things by now – an enforcer/officer in an ASU in the Brigade, in the Kesh on a long stretch or dead. Work it out there aren’t many choices for someone like me over there! The Army saved my life along with people like you. Remember I said earlier when Doyle was here, that when they removed the hood and I thought I was about to die that I’d made peace with myself?’

Bodie looked at Charlie ‘yeah I remember, how could I forget.’

‘I knew then that no matter what I’d done in the past in the name of Charlie Duffy it had been the right thing to do – I had chosen the right side. My death didn’t matter at that point, all I could see was an end to the pain and suffering. The only people who would lose out would be 14 Company in that they’d lost Duffy. If I’d stayed I would still have killed people but their deaths would have been wrong. Don’t get me wrong I still believe in what I think is right.....’

‘Which is? Asked Bodie.

‘I’m not getting drawn into that – what I believe is strictly my affair and off limits. What do you think about Ireland Bodie? Do you think the Six Counties should be part of the UK or part of a Unified Ireland?’

Bodie looked at Charlie and shrugged his shoulders ‘doesn’t really concern me one way or the other, all I’d like is not have to go there again. I’ve seen it as well remember.’

‘What you’ve seen is the sanitised version – I’ve lived it firsthand, seen families fighting amongst themselves because of what they believe. Houses suddenly empty, fathers gone missing never to be seen again or if they did come back crippled for life! I’ve seen the young lads manning the barricades – for fucks sake my cousin Davey was there at sixteen. Davey thought it was fun and that he was a man coz he was able to stop the likes of me and give them a hard time. Do you know where he is now?’

‘No’ said Bodie, ‘what happened to him?’

‘He’s in a wheelchair, he got hit by a stray bullet in 78, he was just seventeen. I went to see him after that op – he told me I was his hero and that he had always wanted to be just like me. He thought I was a fully paid up member and that’s why I kept disappearing when things got a little hot out there.’

‘Do you know who shot him, was it because of you?’

‘It’s highly unlikely after all he is a Duffy – if it was because of me then whoever did it must have a death wish! No it was put down as collateral damage – turns out it was standard NATO ammo but these days it could have been any of the factions or the Army. Seventeen years old and left like that for fucks sake it should have been someone like me not a child! He didn’t deserve to live his life like that, what had he done compared to the things I’ve seen and done.’

‘Yet another innocent victim then. Cut the crap Charlie – no one deserves to spend their life in a wheelchair, not even you, because of what they’ve done or not done. Davey made his choices same as you and I.’

‘Yeah right, but in whose eyes? Both sides have shouted that for years – but they were innocent, they were on their way back from wherever, do you remember the Whiterock Road incident or the one in Andersonstown back in 72? They were all innocent - tell that to the MRF, we would have known if they were, believe me I was there! Ok, some of the shootings we were involved wouldn’t stand up to close scrutiny but that’s what we were there for - create mayhem and mistrust across the city. To use one of your sayings of the moment - we were playing both ends against the middle, our brief back then was very fluid. Don’t believe everything you hear or read, there’s always two sides to the story. Even you’ve heard the phrase guilty by association mate.’

Charlie sat up and poured a fresh drink, watching Bodie’s reactions to the Operator’s words. ‘Surely you must have realised that I’ve been involved in some unsavoury events during my time? Some people might look at my track record and say I’m no better than someone like Riley, killing at the whim of the highest bidder. Do you know if I’d been able to get hold of a gun three years ago I’d have pulled the trigger myself to save them the trouble! Sometimes even now it seems to be a sensible way out.’

‘I know some of what you’ve been involved in, maybe not the details but the grapevine had you in and around Belfast during some of the most notorious events which have happened whilst you’ve been in service. It doesn’t take much to work out you’re not squeaky clean.’

Charlie got up and walked over to the French doors, ‘I told you that I’m not a nice person Bodie, but CI5 might just be the place for me to redeem myself. Going out to your training facility made me think – if I could get involved there I might be able to do some good finally. I enjoyed the training and selection stuff I did with The Det - what I know and I’ve been through might just save someone’s life.’

‘Don’t do yourself down mate – I remember that fresh faced green recruit throwing up after a contact way back in Belfast, just look at where you are now. Duffy, in a strange way, has been good to you – how many other operators are still active? How many people could have survived being subjected to what you were and come out of it still willing to put their lives on the line again and again. I know there’s more to what happened than you’ve said but that’s your business nobody else’s. I also know you Charlie - you care about people, each and everyone of those deaths will be with you until the day you die. Why don’t you call it a day and try and get some sleep? I’ll be next door if you need anything, just don’t do anything stupid. No matter what you think I do care about you and our friendship.’ With that Bodie picked his glass and walked into the bedroom closing the door to, leaving Charlie alone.

A couple of hours later Bodie got up to use the loo and as he walked quietly through the living room he noticed Charlie stood by the French windows starring out into the night, totally unaware of his presence, the half empty bottle dangling limply from one hand. Bodie thought about joining the Operator but decided that his company would not be welcome – it was up to Charlie to think things through and decide what kind of future they would have. Just as Bodie reached the bedroom he heard the soft Irish lilt he remembered from years ago.

‘Go back to bed, there’s nothing here for you to worry about – only the dead keeping me company tonight. Even you can’t protect me from them, God knows you’ve tried in the past.’ 

‘You sure you don’t want company in a toast to absent friends?’ Replied Bodie.

Charlie smiled in the light from the open curtains ‘sounds like a grand idea.’

Bodie came over and raised his glass. ‘Sláinte mhaith.’

‘Sláinte agad-sa’ replied Charlie as the two of them stood there in companionable silence each remembering lost colleagues and friends.

Friday 1 August 1980

The land rover pulled into the compound and the driver explained he was to deliver several cases of supplies to the inner compound. Charlie and Bodie remained silent in the back under a tarpaulin as the second guard lazily shone a torch over the crates. As the flap dropped back down and the driver was given the all clear Charlie turned to Bodie and whispered ‘One day, just one day I’d like to travel somewhere other than by cattle class.’

‘Don’t think that’s likely for us mere plebs’ replied Bodie, ‘anyway you should be used to it by now.’

Climbing out of the land rover when it had parked up, Charlie looked round the secure inner compound and realised that very little had changed in the last three years. The port-a-cabins still looked as if they would collapse in a strong wind. Acting on memory Charlie set off in the direction of the canteen, knowing that there would be at least one cook on duty.

As Charlie and Bodie sat in a corner with a brew and a bacon sandwich a familiar figure, accompanied by someone Charlie didn’t recognise, walked up to the counter and ordered a couple of brews. Turning the man looked round the canteen and suddenly spotted Charlie ‘fucking hell, look what the cat dragged in’ he said, leaving the other person to collect the mugs. Rushing over to their corner he grabbed Charlie in a massive bear hug.

‘When did you get in, where have you been, how long are you here for?’ The questions tumbled out of the mans mouth almost too quick to catch. ‘Oi Stu, get over here now, grab a couple more mugs on your way. Come and meet Charlie.’

‘Put me down Kev’ said Charlie trying to break free of the operators grip ‘I can’t breathe you great big lummox. I see you haven’t changed, one day you’ll end up breaking one of us!’

‘Don’t be stupid, you know you could quite easily tip me on my arse Charlie. What gives – must be a major flap on if they’ve drafted you in. Why wasn’t I informed you were dropping by? New recruit?’ Asked Kevin nodding his head in Bodie’s direction.

‘Was just passing so I thought I’d pop in for afternoon tea, heard they do a lovely spread here’ laughed Charlie. ‘New recruit – nah, do you honestly think our mob would take a reprobate like this one? He’s my guest, Kev this is Bodie, Bodie meet Kevin.’

Kevin looked closer at Bodie, who had grown his hair a bit longer and a beard on Charlie’s orders. It took a couple of minutes before realisation dawned ‘Well, well, well, must be what three years since you were last here, lets hope this visit has a happier ending. Considering how that ended up I’m surprised to see you both back here – that blow to your head must have caused more damage than they realised Charlie.’

Charlie looked at Kev. ‘Well, you know words like, I err get them all way wrong round sometimes and err I’m muddle about all sorts like.’ The two operators looked at each other and started laughing and pulling stupid faces – dark humour helping the raw nerves that Kev had unwittingly touched in Charlie.

Just then Stu arrived with the tray of coffees and introductions were made as per the usual rules. Charlie and Bodie learnt that Stuart was on his first deployment with 14 Company and had yet to be involved in a contact.

‘So where’s the Boss, we need to pop by and have a chat’ asked Charlie.

Kev at least tried to look sheepish ‘you’re looking at him, second tour in charge.’

‘You’re taking the piss surely’ said Charlie not really meaning it. ‘Seriously mate congratulations, you deserve it. Mind if we drop by the office in a bit?’

‘Door’s always open Charlie, you know that. Be good to catch up, glad to have you back on board. Do you need me to set anything up in the meantime for you?’

‘No, everything should have been put in place by now – hopefully your copy of the briefing should have come through by now’ replied Charlie.

Kevin and Stuart made their excuses and left the canteen. ‘When are you planning on joining your old mates, that’s if any of them are here?’

‘There’s a flight due into Aldergrove the day after tomorrow so you’re stuck with me until then.’

‘Are you sure you’re not stalking me?’ Grinned Charlie ‘you seem to be there every time I turn around. I get the feeling someone somewhere really doesn’t like me very much!’

Bodie stuck his tongue out at Charlie ‘Right, where to next oh fount of Holywood knowledge?’

Charlie gave him an exasperated look ‘Are you really sure you want the grand tour? If we get lost don’t blame me, things are bound to have changed since I was last here. Also try and behave for once and at least pretend you actually earned that uniform!’

‘What this old thing – stole it from your flat when you were laid up I did.’

‘Prat.’

The two of them grabbed their kit bags and Charlie gave Bodie a brief tour of the cramped and run down compound, parts of which hadn’t changed since the early days of the MRF. About an hour later they wound up outside Kevin’s office and they could see him on the phone, files spread open on the desk. Kevin looked up and waved them in pointing to the urn on the table, ‘help yourselves’ he mouthed at them ‘and take a seat.’

Charlie grabbed a brew and sat down while Bodie wandered over to the large map board, sipping from his mug. On the board were several large scale maps of the various parts of the city, all with the familiar coloured dots and numbers. Each map had an operators name tacked to it indicating which section was operating in that area. To one side of the maps was a list of about thirty names in groups of five. Thirty operators to cover the whole city plus other areas if a tasking came in, no wonder the turn over was so high. Bodie knew from Charlie that out of a hundred hopeful candidates 14 Company might get ten to fifteen usable new operators who could be deployed on operations. Some operators only managed one tour before either deciding that it was too demanding or being injured.

As Bodie was looking at the maps he was able to make more sense of where Charlie came from – up until now the names on the map had been just that, but having heard the Operator talk about Belfast it all began to make sense. The previous times he’d been in Belfast, like many others Bodie had not studied map and seen how and where the dividing lines were, also his attention had been focused on other things. Most of the places Charlie had mentioned were right in the heart of the PIRA strongholds, Duffy was finally beginning to make sense. Although Bodie had understood the concept of deep cover agents and the need for them to be able to blend in, Duffy really did appear to be one of 14 Company’s best assets - born and bred in the city with almost unbroken ties to the area, there could be very few people better placed to work there. He’d been half joking about Charlie being able to drink in the Divis Castle unchallenged but now he was able to see why.

Up until that point Bodie had not been paying attention to Charlie and Kevin, their conversation had been merely background noise while they had been busy catching up with people and events but suddenly he was aware of Charlie repeating his name.

‘Bodie. Oi, cloth ears, you deaf or what?’ Said Charlie.

‘Sorry miles away, what’s up?’

‘We were just sorting out some logistics – who’s staying where and how you’ll be leaving.’

‘I guess you two will tell me in your own good time. Like I said the replacements from 2 Para don’t get into Aldergrove until the day after tomorrow so there’s no rush to get rid of me.’

‘Ok in that case you can doss down here for a couple of nights, you can bunk in with Charlie. All the other port-a-cabins are taken so it make sense to put you two in together. Hopefully you won’t be disturbed by all our comings and goings’ explained Kev.

‘For fucks sake I was only joking about being stalked by you but now I’m not so sure’ groused Charlie with a grin.

Bodie looked a Kev ‘Seriously do you honestly think I’d want to stalk this one? I’ll let you into a secret, running round Belfast with this one is not my idea of fun but fortunately they’re paying me very well, so as I had nothing better to do, I thought I’d come along.’

‘Thanks mate, nice to know who my friends are, I’ll remember that!’

Kev looked at the pair of them seeing the interchange for what it was, friendly banter that hinted at the strong friendship that had developed over the years, even as they left the office and disappeared round the corner he could still hear their comments.

‘Well someone’s got to watch your back haven’t they?’

‘And who’s going to watch yours?’

‘Thought you were.’

‘Prat, thought you were able to look after yourself?’

Saturday 2 August 1980

Bodie woke up to the sound of someone sorting through a kitbag. He slowly opened one eye and saw Charlie pulling out an old vest t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans.

‘What’s the time’ he enquired sleepily.

‘A little after eight’ replied Charlie. ‘Sorry if I woke you.’

‘Ugh’ grunted Bodie taking in the Operator’s towel clad figure and damp hair. ‘Gym or shower?’

“Both, been up since six.’

‘Ugh.’

‘Talkative aren’t we? Look I’ve got a few things to do, we’ll catch up later ok?’

Bodie opened the other eye and watched as Charlie finished dressing, noting that the Operator picked up the Browning and, dispensing with the holster, tucked it into the waistband of the jeans. ‘So what do you suggest I do with myself in the meantime?’

‘I don’t know – gym, the range, breakfast, the choice is yours’ replied Charlie ‘but keep out of mischief if you can!’

‘Great – all my favourite things to choose from’ grunted Bodie.

‘Welcome to my world mate – you should try doing a full tour out here. Still you’ll soon be out of here for pastures new.’

‘Err, let me think about that – thanks but no thanks’ relied Bodie pulling the blankets over his head.

‘See you later then’ said Charlie.

‘Whatever, I’ll be here, its not like I can just pop out for an hour or so.’

After a leisurely breakfast Bodie decided to give the gym a visit but after about an hour he was bored, there was still no sign of Charlie and he realised that part of the problem was the fact that he was missing the banter which seemed to be always present. Sitting around Holywood was almost as bad as being on stakeout – at least they usually had a view of the outside world rather than a run down container filled compound in the middle of a war zone, or what constituted as one in Bodie’s mind. 

As Bodie wandered in the direction of the shared port-a-cabin he bumped into Kevin coming the other way.

‘Ah Bodie, I was just coming to find you – Charlie left this for you’ said Kev handing over a note written in Charlie’s distinctive hand.

“I’ve sorted out a set of leathers that should fit you (I know my spares won’t fit your ample frame!) and a spare lid with coms. Kev will sort out transport for you. I’ll see you at 1330. Be prepared!” Bodie read the note and looked at his watch, it was already quarter to, he’d just have enough time to change. 

‘Get a move on mate, can’t afford to keep Charlie waiting over here.’

‘Give me ten and I’ll be ready.’

‘I’ll meet you in the yard’ said Kev, ‘oh and take this.’ Kev handed Bodie a Browning, a couple of spare clips and a wallet. ‘I take it you’ve got your holster with you?’

Bodie looked at Kev ‘Never leave home without it but.......’

‘Standard policy – no one leaves base unarmed.’

Bodie rushed out to the front of the compound and spotted Kev sitting waiting for him in a battered looking Ford Escort. As soon as the door closed, Kev slipped the clutch and they pulled out of the inner compound.

Kev watched Bodie out of the corner of his eye as the CI5 agent looked round the car. ‘Don’t let looks deceive you’ he said ‘this is one of our newer Q cars. Be careful what you touch – unexpected things tend to happen.’

‘Charlie told me about them between ops a few years back. From what I remember they’re a bit like a wolf in sheeps clothing, yes?’

Kev laughed ‘you could put it like that. Each car is set up by the operator to their exact specifications – where to put the Kevlar, whether they want a flash bang generator, which switch does what etc. All the cars have external cameras, concealed microphones for the radio, anti-tamper equipment and an over-ride switch for the brake lights. I’m sure Charlie told you all this.’

‘A bit of it, yeah, but........’

‘Given the circumstances I’m not surprised you know things others don’t. I understand why Charlie shared stuff with you – you must be one of only a handful of non-operators who know how we work. Hardly any of your guys ever get that close to us, even on ops. You still with the Regiment?’

‘No left in 75, got seconded into CI5 and been there ever since, apart from that brief spell over here, oh and a quiet trip out to South Kensington in May.’

Kev looked sideways at him and whistled ‘Quiet trip – that’s quite an understatement even from someone like you.’

As they were driving Kev updated based as the general direction they were headed. Leaving Holywood Kev turned south on Holywood Road heading towards Knocknagoney Park. 

‘Right Charlie said to meet in the park, there’s a cafe at the entrance I’ll drop you off outside it. Wait for Charlie to show up ok?’

‘Yeah ok and don’t talk to any strange people right?’

‘Exactly, good job I’m the Boss, I don’t need to tell you there’s a bit of rule bending going on here, mate, don’t worry I won’t tell if you don’t. Keep out of trouble and follow Charlie’s lead.’ Kev said as they pulled into the entrance to the park. As Bodie got out of the car he noticed a lone motorbike parked under some trees well away from the other vehicles. He turned and walked away from the Escort and decided to take a short stroll into the park to see if anyone was watching. Satisfied that they had not attracted any unwanted attention, Bodie went into the cafe, ordered a coffee and found a seat at the back in a corner which gave him an uninterrupted view of the entrance. As he finished his coffee he spotted Charlie walk up to the bike, climb on it and start the engine. Bodie grabbed his helmet off the table and as the bike pulled up outside the door he climbed up behind the Operator.

‘Welcome aboard mate’ Charlie’s voice came through the helmet coms. ‘See the leathers fitted ok.’

‘Yeah thanks. I’ll have you know this is all solid muscle.’

Charlie laughed. ‘Did you get the other package?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Where is it?’

Bodie reached between them and patted the Operator’s lower back right on the waistband. Charlie nodded in approval ‘you were more awake than I thought. What about the ID?’

‘How could anyone sleep through with you dripping water everywhere and making enough noise to wake the dead? Yes its safe.’

Charlie signalled and pulled out on to Holywood Road heading towards one of the bridges which would take them across the Langan into the city. As they were riding along Bodie tried to make sense of the constant chatter on the net coming from the other operators out and about.

‘How do you make sense of all this noise?’ He asked Charlie.

‘Years of practise – its easy. There’s a team out in Turf Lodge following one tango. It also helps if you know the maps,.’

‘I suppose it must be when you’ve been doing it as long as you have, its doing my head in.’

‘Don’t forget I was born here so that helps as well. I guess I sometimes forget what its like for newbies learning the ropes.’

‘Where are we headed then?’

‘All over but I’ll stay clear of Turf Lodge unless things go wrong over there. Remember when we get stopped, which we will, leave the talking to me, I don’t want us getting pinged.’

‘That’s fine by me but what if they ask me a direct question?’

‘You’re my cousin Will,’ Charlie heard the groan and smiled ‘from Derry. You’re here looking for work. You got caught in a riot and took a blow to the head, you haven’t spoken since. You’re here looking for labouring jobs and I’m helping you.’

‘Do you think anyone will believe us?’

‘We look alike enough to pass for cousins and provided you keep your mouth shut, why shouldn’t they? You’ve got your ID in your wallet. Don’t forget you’re with Charlie Duffy – my reputation’s well known round the city.’

‘You might be known in your areas but what about with the RUC or the Army?’

‘Don’t worry, the bike will hit on Vengeful so they’ll know to let us be, there’s a marker on it to report my movements rather than take any action.’

Once they’d crossed the river, the traffic picked up as they headed into the city centre. Just past the Royal Victoria Hospital Charlie took a left onto the Falls Road and Bodie sensed a change in the Operator. As they rode along on the BMW, Bodie was able to take time to look around and saw the numerous barricades on many of the side roads leading into the notorious estates. Charlie signalled and they turned into Whiterock Road heading towards the Ballymurphy.

‘Keep watching I’m going to head towards the Bullring, we’re bound to be stopped as soon as we reach Ballymurphy Road. Remember just follow my lead.’

Crossing the traffic Charlie turned into the maze of back to back terraces common to the area and Bodie became aware of the sensation of watching eyes following their movement. Looking round he saw the murals painted on the ends of the terraces extolling the clear sectarian divide – one glance told you who controlled the streets of the Ballymurphy. 

‘Right, there’s a switch beside the clip for the helmet just push it and it will cut the coms. Turn it off now before we get stopped. Bravo this is Mike 1 and 2 going off net, will advise when clear.’ Charlie radioed base to update their situation. Turning off the coms made Bodie realise that there was no backup, it was just the two of them and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

Charlie slowed the bike and came to a stop at the junction of Ballymurphy Road and Glenalina Crescent in front of the barricade which had been hastily thrown across the road. As usual those manning the obstruction were a mix of older men and curious young lads. One of the older men stepped forward and gestured to Charlie and Bodie to remove their helmets. ‘Duffy, thought I recognised the bike, who’s your lad?

‘Callaghan. What’s it to you? Replied Charlie.

‘Identify yourselves, you know the drill Duffy. Who’s your lad and where are you going?’

‘For your information we’ve been out to Andersonstown and I’m going to see Davey.’

‘You still haven’t told me who your boy is, I’m getting impatient, I don’t care about you Duffy.’

‘Look Callaghan, I don’t have time to get into a pissing match with you, if it’s all the same. This here is my cousin Will down from Derry, he’s looking for work.’

‘So cousin Will from Derry, what are you doing with Duffy here?’

Bodie looked at Callaghan and Charlie shrugging his shoulders, he could feel a trickle of sweat run down his back and the first thrill of adrenaline tingle through his nerves.

‘I’m waiting for an answer’ said Callaghan pacing backwards and forwards in front of the BMW.

‘I told you he’s my cousin Will Bodie down from Derry, leave him be. Will show him your ID’ said Charlie turning round on the bike. Bodie handed over the wallet with his ID.

‘Oi you, Will from Derry why won’t you talk, cat got your tongue?’

Bodie tapped Charlie on the shoulder and gestured towards Callaghan. ‘Ok, ok I’ll explain in words of one syllable as that’s about the limit for him’ said Charlie climbing off the bike and walking slowly up to Callaghan. ‘Right as I told you this is my cousin down from Derry, he’s looking for work and he can’t speak to you – he can’t speak to anyone.’

‘Oh you mean he’s backward then?’

‘I’m warning you Callaghan, he’s no more an eejit than I am. He got caught up in a riot in Derry and got hit in the head – he’s not said a word since. Right I think we’re finished here don’t you?’ Said Charlie to Bodie, who was half off the bike.

‘You might be finished but I’m not’ said Callaghan as he made towards Bodie ‘come on boyo talk to me or are youse afraid, is that it.’

Charlie turned and caught Callaghan behind the knee with a sweeping leg and sent him tumbling to the floor and followed it up with a swift kick in the balls. As the other man lay there wondering what had hit him and trying not to throw up, the Operator walked up and stood over him, Browning in hand ‘Like I said Callaghan we’re done here, if I was you I’d tell the boys to move the barricade so Will and I can be on our way. You seem to think you’re king of the hill don’t you, well I’ll let you into a little secret shall I now, I tolerate your being here as does the Brigade but that all could change with a word in the right ear. Are you willing to risk your patch over a pissing match with me? Go ahead if that’s what you want – I can give you five minutes of my time but I honestly don’t think you’d last that long against me. You cross me again and I’ll make sure you won’t be walking without crutches for a wee while, do I make myself clear? ‘

Bodie noticed that as Charlie walked back to the bike the Operator was limping very slightly, nobody else would have spotted it since it was so slight but given how long they had known each other it was obvious to him. Bodie gave Charlie a thumbs up and received a mock clip round the ear for his effort ‘Behave yourself Will’ admonished Charlie ‘Callaghan was about to apologise to you for the way he treated you, weren’t you?’

Callaghan merely grunted in their direction and gestured for the barricade to be moved out of the way. As they drove round the gap created in the barricade both of them watched in the bike mirrors as Callaghan got up from the floor and limped over to the his colleagues. Charlie tapped Bodie’s leg and then the helmet to indicate he could turn the coms back on as they rode out of sight on Glenalina Crescent.

‘Think you might have just made a new friend there mate’ said Bodie sarcastically.

‘Fucking little jumped up prick, he’s lucky he can still walk’ spluttered Charlie.

‘Yeah well thanks anyway, I just wish I could have lumped him one instead. Bloody hell is it always like this with you?’

‘No most of the time once they realise who they’re dealing with they back down but Callaghan’s always been a bit of a prick – seems to think he’s more important than he really is. Most of the Brigade tolerate him but I think the time has come for someone to drop them some anonymous info on our friend.’

‘How’s the leg?’

‘Fine why?’

Bodie sensed that Charlie was lying but he decided if that was how the Operator wanted to play it he’d go along with things. ‘So where to now then mate?’

‘I just need to pick a couple of bits up from Davey’s and then we can head on out to Divis and the Black Mountain, which is just the thing Will from Derry would want to see while he’s here.’

‘Aren’t we likely to be stopped again while we’re out?’

‘Highly unlikely given what I did to Callaghan, the dickers will have passed on the info so we should have free passage for the rest of the day. It’s unusual for me to be stopped while I’m out and about but every so often someone will do it just to make a point, Duffy is an accepted part of the scenery here on the estates and has been for a long time, so quit worrying.’

After a brief stop on Glenalina Road to collect the Operator’s things Charlie headed out to the Black Mountain. Parking the bike at the foot of the climb they decided to race each other to the top. By time they reached the summit the clouds had lifted and they were rewarded with panoramic views across the city and all of the Six Counties, plus Bodie could just make out what he thought was the Solway Firth away to the northeast. 

‘Hard to believe what we’ve just seen down there when you look at this view’ he remarked to Charlie.

‘Makes you think doesn’t it? Makes me appreciate the good out here – yes there is some, sometimes it’s hard to see but it’s still there’ replied Charlie ‘people like us trying to do what’s right, as opposed to scumbags like Callaghan. Come on, last one back provides a bottle for this evening.’

‘You coming back to base tonight then? Thought you’d be out and about’ said Bodie.

‘Nah think I’ll let Callaghan lick his wounds for a while before I come out to play again. One, two, three!’

Both of them raced down towards the bike but just as they reached the lower part of the slope Bodie was aware of Charlie slipping and swearing and tumbling past him. Charlie managed to stay upright and just beat Bodie back to the bike, laughing all the way. The ride back to Holywood proved to be uneventful, the only highlight being the fact that Charlie took them down Crumlin Road past the infamous gaol. When they got back to their port-a-cabin Bodie collapsed on his bunk and watched as Charlie stripped off the leathers. As the Operator bent down to pick up the discarded jeans from earlier in the day he noticed that Charlie’s left leg looked swollen and inflamed around the recent scar.

‘Oi, you seen your leg mate?’

‘Stop fussing Bodie, there’s nothing wrong with it, it’s just where these new leathers have rubbed and the fact that the seat on the BMW is a slightly different shape to the one on my bike back home. I’ll give it a good soak in the shower.’

‘I’m not so sure about it I don’t like the look of it – you ought to get it checked out by the MO. How long has it been like that, that’s not just a result of today’s ride.’

‘Leave it be Bodie, I told you its nothing to worry about! For fucks sake will you let me be I’m big enough and ugly enough to look after myself! I’m not an eejit no matter what you think! I’ll get it looked at in the morning. You sort out a drink while I’m in the shower’ said Charlie grabbing a towel, trying not limp on the way to the shower.

Wednesday 31 December 1980

 

Charlie looked in the mirror and decided that the white vest under the deep red silk shirt and black jeans would pass muster for the CI5 New Years party - not too dressy but not too casual either especially teamed with the Operator’s trademark bikers jacket. Jeans and an old t-shirt or the bikers leathers just would not cut it apparently even though the party was being held at Murphy’s flat - smart casual was the order. Charlie had heard numerous rumours about the parties over the past month and had decided to keep an open mind about the proceedings - it would make a welcome change from the stuffiness of the Army dinners that Charlie had attended in the past. One or two parties came to mind that had been particularly raucous - mainly in Aldershot when the Paras had been based there, if memory was correct they had involved a couple of the land rovers and copious quantities of beer. Charlie walked over to the wardrobe and found the dress uniform hanging inside and stroked it remembering where and when it had been worn. Not normally one to dwell on the past Charlie could not help but think back over the last seven months and wonder whether the change in career had been the right move - CI5 was certainly quieter than 14 Company but it had it’s challenging moments. Walking out of the bedroom Charlie paused in front of the french windows and gazed out at the bike debating whether to take it but decided that it would be foolhardy given the amount of alcohol that would be on offer. Loosing your driving licence was definitely not on Cowley’s list of priorities for his agents so Charlie rang for a taxi - it was too far to walk and the Operator had no desire for the cold to aggravate the dodgy leg.

On the ride over to Murphy’s flat Charlie watched the lights of London pass by the cab in a flashing blur of colours and realised how dangerous life was in Belfast, as well as drab and grey in comparison. Christmas lights shone from nearly every house and Charlie saw people walking down the street heading out to enjoy themselves on New Year’s Eve without an apparent care – there were no barricades or murals daubed on the walls signalling which part of the city you were in and whether it was safe to be there. None of the revellers were looking over their shoulders waiting for shots to ring out or the distinctive crump of a bomb, not that Charlie could remember seeing this many people out at New Year since before the Troubles had started. People felt safe on the streets but the Operator knew that beneath veneer of respectability lurked as much filth and corruption as in Belfast, it just didn’t have quite the same destructive power. Charlie also knew just one carefully placed bomb would destroy the fragile sense of security - memories of the mainland bombing campaigns were still fresh in the minds of everyone, both CI5 and the public. Charlie’s mind was half on the evening ahead and half on the past wondering how the two different types of party would compare.

Charlie paid the taxi driver and stood on the pavement looking up at the lights flashing in the upstairs windows of the building, music drifting out and wondered about the reception the Operator could expect – most of the agents had yet to meet the mysterious soldier. Since joining CI5 Charlie had spent most of the intervening months either undercover in Belfast or keeping tabs on the various Irish sympathisers in London and had rarely set foot in headquarters. Most of the information had been passed by phone or occasionally in person to Bodie, Doyle or Murphy and it was unlikely that any of the others would know who Charlie was. Charlie rang the buzzer and climbed the stairs up to the flat and found Murphy standing holding the door open for the Operator ‘Nearly didn’t recognise you’ said Murphy ‘you look different out of leathers.’  
‘Cheers, not sure if that’s an insult or not’ replied Charlie. ‘You here to escort me in then or what?’

‘Are you saying that Duffy can’t face a room full of CI5’s finest?’ Murphy turned to Charlie laughing.

‘Duffy could but I’m not sure about Charlie Price, don’t forget this is all new to me, I don’t even know what half of them look like’ replied Charlie. 

‘You’ll be fine once you get a couple of drinks inside you.’

Murphy led the way into the living room ‘don’t worry they won’t bite, well one or two might given half a chance. Just relax and enjoy yourself and you’ll get to see CI5 at it’s debauched finest.’

‘That really fills me with confidence, thanks Murph’ replied Charlie. ‘Hopefully they’ll be too pissed to take any notice of the stranger in the camp.’

‘Don’t you be so sure about that, we’re all highly trained remember?’ Murphy turned round and gave Charlie a cross-eyed look even Bodie would have been proud of.

‘What is it with you ex-SAS guys? Is being totally barking one of the pre-selection requirements you need to demonstrate?’

‘Quite possibly, I’m sure we’ve all got at least one screw loose, probably more than one in most cases.’

‘What you having?’

‘Guinness, if you’ve got it, cheers Murph.’ Charlie looked round trying to put names to faces of agents gathered in groups – Anson, cigar in hand and Jax were instantly recognisable but the Operator could only guess at who most of the others were. ‘So who’s missing then?’ Asked Charlie taking the drink as Murphy turned from the makeshift bar and looked round.

‘Erm, just the usual suspects and I’m sure they’ll be here soon enough causing mayhem as always. Do you want me to introduce you to some of us or do you want to mingle and see how things go?’

Charlie took a sip of the Guinness and thought which might be easier ‘Tell you what, I’ll let you start and see how it goes.’

Murphy grinned at the Operator ‘ready then?’

‘Oh God’ said Charlie ‘as ready as I’ll ever be. Let me drink some of this to fortify myself I think I’m going to need it knowing you!’

As Charlie took a pull of the pint Murphy grabbed a microphone and without warning jumped up on a nearby table. 

‘Oi you disreputable lot’ said Murphy, his voice echoing through the microphone. People turned round to face the agent and conversations died away waiting to hear what he had to say. ‘Right, we have a new pretender in our midst.’ Murphy paused for effect and Charlie tried to back away but was grabbed by two sets of hands and held firmly in place. ‘Some of you may have met this person without knowing but I’m sure most of you have heard the name mentioned in whispers or rumours around our hallowed halls. Some of you think our very own Raymond Doyle is the chameleon king but let me tell you our pretender here is the master of undercover. Our pretender has seen the better part of nine years undercover, here and in other exotic locations, which also puts the King of South London’s crown in jeopardy. So in one fell swoop our pretender can lay claim to two titles.’ Murphy paused letting the catcalls and whistles build until they were almost deafening. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I use those words in their loosest terms, I give you that mad Irish bastard, the Beast of Belfast’ Murphy turned to Bodie and Doyle and nodded to them to make sure Charlie didn’t manage to escape. ‘Charlie Duffy!’

‘You fecking bastard Michael Patrick Murphy! I’ll have your fecking balls for this’ said Charlie, trying desperately to maintain a pretence of anger, lunging for the laughing agent in an effort to pull him down from the table. ‘You are going to pay big time for this – remember all those wonderful sergeants mess reprisals? You are going to suffer each and everyone, you are going to be watching your back for years to come mate!’

‘Oh dear, Charlie here can hold a grudge for years Murph, are you sure you can cope with the strain?’ Laughed Bodie as he and Doyle struggled to hold on to Charlie, who by now was having trouble standing up with the effort of not laughing out loud. Murphy looked at the three faces in front of him and tried to decide whether to stand his ground or make a dash for another room before Charlie got hold of him. Eventually Charlie couldn’t hold on any longer and started laughing at the look of panic on Murphy’s face. 

‘Your face is an absolute picture mate, you’ve gone a funny shade of greenish white. Am I really that scary?’

‘Too fucking right you are, I’ve heard all about you, don’t forget I was around when you threatened Malone down at the warehouse. Charlie Duffy is someone I really wouldn’t want to cross’ said Murphy as he recovered his breath. ‘Come on let’s introduce you properly to the squad.’

The next couple of hours passed in a blur of faces, names and countless drinks – soon enough Charlie found a quiet corner and collapsed into an old comfy arm chair to sit and watch the party unfold. Surreptitiously as the Operator reached down and started to massage the left leg Charlie became aware of a pair of green eyes watching from across the room. Doyle lifted his glass in a salute and slowly walked over to where Charlie sat.

‘Giving you gyp?’

‘A bit, bloody cold out there and then standing around too long. Stop fussing it will ease in a minute.’

‘You need more alcohol – scotch ok?’

‘Cheers. What you done with Bodie?’

‘Over there holding court with some of the newer lads – he’ll be regaling them with one of his tall stories no doubt.’

‘Poor bastards, some of the tales get bigger every time he tells them. How many do you think are true Doyle?’

‘Some of them must be?’

‘Ah to be sure, but which ones, don’t you ever wonder?’

‘Do you know?’

‘Oh I know which ones. I was privileged a long time ago to hear certain things about our Bodie ....’

Doyle looked closely at Charlie but the Operator was watching Bodie over the side of the room as he lapped up the younger agents attention. 

As the night progressed the noise levels grew as the drinks levels went down and by midnight there wasn’t a sober person left in the flat. Once the formalities of seeing the old year out had finished the numbers started to thin out until it was just the four of them left sitting round the table with the remains of various half empty bottles.

‘I take it you lot are going to crash here?’ Slurred Murphy.

‘Well if you’re offering, would be rude not to’ mumbled Doyle.

‘Hope you’ve got breakfast in’ threw in Bodie.

‘Grand of you to offer, saves on a taxi’ added Charlie.

‘Right that’s decided’ said Murphy ‘make yourselves comfy, the beds mine.’ As he said the words and attempted to push himself off the settee he caught sight of the others making a rush for the bedroom. ‘Oi fuck off, its my flat you bastards come back here.’

Wednesday 6 May 1981

‘God, I hate stakeouts’ said Bodie ‘especially ones where no-one ever seems to use the property we’ve been sent to watch!’

Doyle looked up from the days old paper at his partner who was sitting in the shadows by the window watching the seemingly empty house across the street.

‘How many days we been here now?’ 

‘Three or four, not sure they seem to have merged into one long round of seat swapping, still at least we managed to pull the day shifts unlike poor old Anson and Jax, don’t think I could stomach trying to watch that place on and off all night.’

Bodie turned round, rubbing his eyes which were decidedly fuzzy from spending far too long staring through the binoculars at the perpetually closed front door opposite. ‘Must be your turn now mate I’m going blind here with the boredom.’

Doyle was in the process of getting up to relieve Bodie when he was interrupted by the chirping of his r/t. ‘4-5 go ahead.’

‘Alpha 1 to 3-7 and 4-5, you’re to stand down and meet me at St Thomas’ hospital as soon as Lucas and McCabe arrive.’

Bodie raised a questioning eyebrow as Doyle acknowledged the call. ‘Wonder what the old man wants us at St Thomas’ for?’

‘No idea mate, he sounded fine so can’t be him. Right shift your arse I’ll cover until the others get here, you can sort out all your junk.’

‘My junk? At least half this crap belongs to you mate, why do I always get to play fetch and carry?’

‘Because, my son, you’re bigger than me or so you keep telling anyone who’ll listen. Anyway donkey’s go best well loaded’ replied Doyle ducking out of the way of the carefully aimed cushion.

Twenty minutes later they heard the quiet squeak of footsteps on the stairs and the not so happy voices of Lucas and McCabe as they groused their way up to the attic to take over the observation post. 

‘Ah I see the cavalry have arrived’ said Bodie diving for the door before he got lumbered with carrying their bags. ‘Enjoy the view!’

‘What’s up with him?’ Asked Lucas.

‘Stir crazy, we’ve been here for, I think its four days staring at nothing – take a look at the log and you’ll see what I mean’ replied Doyle. ‘There’s a few drops of milk left in the fridge I think but the sandwich tin is empty thanks to the walking stomach there.’

‘Oh great, not only do we have to bail you two out but you couldn’t be bothered to top up the supplies!’

‘Well how did we know that we’d be summonsed in the middle of our shift? I’m sure we can arrange for Anson to top things up when they arrive tonight. Anyhow you won’t get time to sit around eating and drinking, there’s far too much going on over the road to have tea and sandwiches.’

‘Go on piss off will you’ said McCabe ‘and leave us in peace.’

‘Oh and another thing – you’re out of bog roll’ called Bodie as he made his escape down the stairs, Doyle fast on his heels.

Luckily for once the traffic through London seemed to be on the side of CI5 and the two agents made the journey to St Thomas’ in good time and managed to find Cowley waiting for them along with Murphy at reception.

‘Gentlemen nice of you to turn up. Right down to business. As of two hours ago Charlie Price was transferred from the Royal Victoria, Belfast to this hospital in a critical condition. Doyle I need you and Murphy in that room keeping an eye on Charlie, its all been cleared with the consultants. Bodie you hang on here a minute.’

‘What the f..., what happened Sir?’

‘Charlie was attacked in Belfast by a single assailant, it was a hit and run – at first.’

‘What do you mean at first?’

‘Charlie was coming back from a meeting and as such was still in contact with Holywood, in particular Kevin. The whole incident was radioed back to base and given the nature of the operation, the report was recorded - from the moment Charlie was hit by the vehicle to moment the request for a medivac and clean up crew was received.’

‘Who called it in and why the need for a clean up crew?’

‘Charlie called it in and apparently managed to kill the assailant – someone called Callaghan.’

‘Patrick Callaghan – figures, Charlie and him got into a pissing match last summer when we were over there. Callaghan was manning a barricade in the Ballymurphy when he decided that he would try and throw his weight around, he insulted Charlie’s cousin Will and tried to pick a fight with him. Charlie took him down a peg or two, threatened to undermine him with the Brigade and also told him if he crossed either of them again he’d be looking forward to walking with the aid of crutches.’

‘I take it this cousin, Will, was you and that you were with Charlie? What were the pair of you thinking or rather not thinking.’

‘It was all above board, it was sanctioned by the Boss. Charlie decided it was necessary for me to actually see what Belfast was like before taking on the upcoming op, to put everything into context.’

‘That’s by the by now, what matters is what happened to Charlie.’

‘When did this hit and run happen? How badly is Charlie hurt?’

‘Two weeks ago, the medics wanted to stabilise Charlie before attempting the flight to the UK. Charlie has sustained a severe concussion, broken bones down the left side – leg in particular - broken jaw, fractured skull and broken ribs. Also Callaghan shot Charlie in the gut - ruptured spleen and massive internal bleeding. The bones will heal but they are concerned about the swelling on the brain - that’s why they waited before attempting the move, they wanted to try and get it under control rather than risk the flight.’

‘What have they said about recovery?’

‘No-one is prepared to commit to anything at the moment, other than they will pin Charlie’s left leg, in an attempt to save it, at some point. There’s no guarantee that Charlie can pull through this one Bodie, I thought you should be told.’ Cowley paused, watching Bodie’s reaction to the news ‘I’m sorry lad but you need to read this medical report – only you and I, plus the medics have seen this.’

Bodie took the page of typed medical notes and x-ray film, both clearly showing Charlie’s name and date of birth, he took a deep breath and read the notes, realising that the news contained in the notes was not going to be good. As he read through the report the colour drained from his face and Cowley saw the younger man’s grim mask he used to conceal his emotions slip into place.

‘Does Charlie know about this?’

‘I don’t know, I take it you didn’t?’

‘No,’ replied Bodie stiffly. ‘I think I’ll go and see Charlie now, if that’s ok by you, Sir? By the way how did Callaghan die?’

‘Broken neck, he’d also been knee-capped. Both of them had been shot with the same gun hence we’re fairly certain it was a single assailant. I’m not sure how Charlie managed to break Callaghan’s neck given how bad the injuries were.’ 

‘You don’t know Charlie very well then, do you Sir – it’s either them or you so you do what you have to do to survive!’

Cowley felt the barriers come down ‘on you go laddie, go and see Charlie, I warn you it’s not a pretty sight.’

By time Bodie arrived at the private room he had managed to just about get his errant emotions under control but he knew both Doyle, and Murphy to some degree, would be able to work out that Charlie was in a very serious condition. Taking a deep breath Bodie opened the door and entered the room, he paused as he looked round noticing various machines which were doing their job keeping Charlie alive. Steeling himself he looked at the figure on the bed – unless you knew who was meant to be there he’d have had trouble recognising the Operator. As Bodie approached the bed he saw that the medics had shaved Charlie’s head to allow them to insert a shunt to help drain the fluid from around the Operator’s brain. Charlie’s face still bore the remains of the bruising sustained from the accident now fading to that sickly yellow colour, there was a feeding tube in Charlie’s nose which would make sense given the wired up jaw. It wasn’t just the bruising that distorted Charlie’s face but the remnants of swelling from the impact with either the vehicle or the ground and also where the medical staff had wired the broken jaw.

‘Jesus’ Bodie exclaimed ‘Callaghan sure did a job on you mate. Good thing you’re out of it, I bloody hurt just looking at you, can imagine how bad you’d feel if you were awake!’

‘Who’s Callaghan?’ Asked Doyle watching his partner closely as he walked over to the bed and stood looking down at Charlie, mask firmly in place but blue eyes glittering dangerously.

‘A jumped up little prick who got all he fucking deserved, well almost, might have been better if he’d lost both knee-caps and spent the rest of his miserable life a cripple!’

‘So what happened then’ enquired Murphy ‘and when?’

Bodie pulled up a chair and sat down beside the bed ‘Charlie was hit two weeks ago by a vehicle, probably a van judging by the injuries, driven by Callaghan, on the way back from a meet in the city and the whole thing was caught on audio tape. Charlie called it in as it happened and requested the medivac and clean-up crew after killing Callaghan.’

‘Why did he target Charlie in the first place and how the fuck did Charlie manage to kill him?’

‘You remember that op last summer Doyle, the one Murph here took over from me? Well before it started Charlie took me out on the bike round some of the more interesting parts of the city, said it was so I could get a real feel for the place. Anyway on our way to see one of Charlie’s cousins, we got stopped at one of the numerous barricades in the Ballymurphy estate and this prick Callaghan decided to try and throw his weight around.....’

‘Let me guess, he decided to have a pop at Charlie’ said Murphy.

‘Not quite, he decided to have a pop at me, Charlie stepped in and put him down, literally and also threatened to shop him with the Brigade. Apparently he had a bit of a problem accepting that he was a nothing, he was merely tolerated by the Brigade and Charlie was well aware the fact and decided to capitalise on it.’

Doyle looked at him puzzled ‘so why did Charlie step in to defend your honour then? Bet that smarted a bit.’

‘Yeah well I couldn’t very well deal with it myself as technically we weren’t supposed to be where we were. Also my cover was I had taken a blow to the head a while before during some riots up in Derry and since then hadn’t said a word – would have been obvious I wasn’t a native as soon as I opened my mouth. If I’d have spoken it would have blown Charlie’s cover right out of the water - how’d you explain someone with Duffy’s reputation being out with a Brit? Callaghan would have got the Brigade involved and we’d have both been dead, so I kept quiet and let Charlie take him down a peg or two. Little did either of us realise he’d do this - he obviously meant for Charlie to die but.....’

‘Somehow despite all the odds Charlie got in first, just how did he die?’ Enquired Murphy.

‘Knee-capped and a broken neck, despite suffering concussion, fractured skull, broken jaw, ribs, leg, a ruptured spleen and internal bleeding from being shot in the gut, Charlie still managed to kill a man! Breaking a man’s neck is not an easy way to kill someone, even when you’re fit, it takes skill and strength, I wouldn’t have wanted to attempt it in that state – just goes to show how determined to live our Charlie is.’

‘Fucking hell, that must have been one hell of a take down. Any idea how Charlie managed it?’

‘Not a clue and we’re not likely to find out for a while, at least until the swelling on the brain goes down and Charlie comes round. Look, go on get out of here Murph, no point us all being here now given that it was personal not a paid hit on Charlie, Doyle and I can manage’ said Bodie.

‘Ok if you’re sure, you know how to get hold of me if you need me. Just let me know if there’s any change in Charlie’s condition, any change day or night!’

Friday 8 May 1981

Bodie sat beside the bed watching Charlie and the various machines tasked with keeping the Operator alive in turn, trying to detect any change improvement in his colleagues condition. Two days had passed since the Operator’s unannounced arrival at the hospital and the three senior agents had been taking it in turns, as much as their workload allowed, to visit. As was usual when one of their own was injured other members of the squad dropped by to visit, even if they were not close colleagues – they each knew that but for the grace of God it could be them lying there hanging on to life by a thin thread. All of them at some time or other had been, or would be, injured in the course of their work and they had all experienced the loss of colleagues so the act of visiting the injured never seemed to be a chore but was carried out with a sense of relief, knowing that when the time came the favour would be returned.

As Bodie sat watching a nurse came in to the room to carry out the routine checks that drove everyone round the twist while recovering, accompanied by one of the consultants looking after Charlie. The medical staff were used to having strange people in with their patients, especially if the patient was CI5 and they usually ignored them unless it was an emergency.

‘Bodie isn’t it?’

‘Yes, why?’

‘Ah George said according to their latest files you are not quite next of kin but the closest thing for Sergeant Price. We want to start reducing the amount of sedative that we are giving Sergeant Price so hopefully we can see what kind of shape your colleague is in. At the moment we can’t be sure how responsive they are – is the sedative keeping them unconscious or is it the brain trauma. When we start reducing the drugs there might be some, how can I put it, distressing reactions. Sergeant Price might experience some fits - these are nothing to worry about just upsetting to watch. Do we have your permission to carry on?’

‘Is this a normal course of treatment in this type of injury?’ Asked Bodie.

‘Quite normal, in fact we would have already started reducing the dose but due to the fact that my colleagues in Belfast wanted to get the swelling under control before moving Sergeant Price we haven’t been able to. Two weeks is quite a long time to maintain this dose of sedation, hopefully the brain should be sufficiently recovered and your colleague should come round fairly quickly. Also we need to operate on that broken leg, if we leave it too much longer it will be all the more difficult to fix in the long run. Have you seen the x-rays? Nurse fetch Sergeant Price’s file please.’

The nurse went to fetch the file and was back in a couple of minutes with Charlie’s notes, which looked to Bodie to be the size of War and Peace.

‘Right’ said the consultant shuffling through until he found the most up to date films of Charlie’s left leg ‘as you can see the femur is very badly broken and needs to be pinned to prevent any further complications. As you are aware your colleague has suffered severe trauma to that leg in the past, do you know what happened?’  
Bodie looked at the consultant and at Charlie not wanting to betray the Operator’s trust but he knew he had to be honest for Charlie’s sake. ‘Sergeant Price was severely beaten with an iron bar several years ago which resulted in the damage you can see, then last year sustained a through and through to the left thigh which apparently nicked the bone on the way. Sergeant Price seemed to recover well after the incidents but I know the gun-shot wound has caused some minor problems – swelling, inflammation and a slight weakness. The doctors warned Sergeant Price not to over stress the leg as it was never going to be as strong as the other one, but Charlie is a stubborn bastard and doesn’t take kindly to being told what to do. What will happen if you don’t pin the leg?’

‘At best your colleague will be lucky to walk with crutches, at worst Sergeant Price will loose the leg. If we operate and stabilise the bone then hopefully Sergeant Price will be up and walking again within six to eight weeks with an intensive physio regime but, as I’m no doubt sure has been pointed out before, that leg will always be a weak link. Any sudden stress could, not will, cause major problems but then again Sergeant Price might be lucky and have no long lasting problems whatsoever. Pinning the bones together will give the leg added strength and should allow it to heal properly.’

‘When do you plan on operating?’

‘Today, if you give us consent and after that we’ll start easing back on the sedation. Whilst we’ve got Sergeant Price in the operating theatre we will go ahead and remove the shunt after we’ve done another brain scan just to check that all the swelling has gone down. Do you have any further questions?’

‘What are Charlie’s chances of coming out this without any long term problems?’

‘Realistically? I can’t comment at this time, we will have to just wait and see’ replied the consultant ‘it all depends on how Sergeant Price reacts to the withdrawal of the sedatives.’

‘Look, just cut the crap and give a worse case scenario – are we talking brain damage or what.’

The consultant looked at Bodie and sighed ‘worst case scenario? Severe brain damage, no hope of recovery, a life of limbo living but not living – something called a persistent vegetative state, which is where the patient is alive but unable to respond in any way to stimuli. The patient is not in a coma and sometimes experiences wake/sleep cycles but is not aware of anything. The longer the state persists the less likely they are to recover any cognitive function - you could call it a living death. Hopefully Sergeant Price will start to regain awareness once we reduce the amount of sedation. The best scenario? Just aches and pains from the broken bones. My assessment of the likely situation - somewhere in the middle given the trauma that your colleague has suffered in the past. It’s quite possible that there could be lasting psychological problems - mood swings, violent outbursts.’

‘Yeah well we’re famous for that in this mob! Well you’ve just described the Charlie we all know and love so how are we going to tell if there’s any lasting damage?’ grinned Bodie.

‘Gallows humour Bodie?’ Said Cowley, as he walked into the room. ‘Stephen how’s the patient doing today?’

‘No change George, we are taking Sergeant Price to surgery later to sort out that leg and remove the shunt. We’re also going to be reducing the sedation, so hopefully things will look better by this evening.’

When the nurses came to take Charlie down to theatre, Bodie decided to nip back to his flat for a shower and took the time to ring Doyle and Murphy to let them know what the consultant had said. Bodie returned to the hospital a couple of hours later and was greeted by both Doyle and Murphy who had decided that given the close friendship that had developed between them all, it was only right that all three of them should be there in case Charlie started to come round after the operation.

A little after teatime the nursing staff brought Charlie back and the consultant came in to tell them that the shunt had been removed and that the operation to pin the leg had gone as well as could be expected given the severity of the injury. 

‘Anyone fancy a coffee?’ Asked Murphy.

‘You get a pay rise or something’ said Doyle ‘most unlike you to offer to buy anything.’

‘I’ll have you know I’m very generous I am, you’re the one who’s tighter than a Scotsman on Burns Night mate. So its coffees all round then?’

‘Only coz you’re buying’ laughed Bodie.

A short while later Murphy came back with the coffees. The three friends sat watching Charlie, lost in their own thoughts, each of them thankful that this time it wasn’t them stuck in hospital facing months of the inactivity but also aware of how difficult the months ahead were going to be for all of them. Suddenly one of the machines started to beep faster and they became aware of movement from the bed, it appeared that Charlie was starting to come round from the sedation.

‘Murph go and let one of the nurses know what’s happening’ said Doyle as Bodie got up and moved towards Charlie. Just as Bodie reached out to put a hand on Charlie he was met with a confused but intense blue gaze as the Operator’s eyes flew open. 

‘It’s ok mate, it’s me Bodie’ he said quietly ‘do you know where you are? Don’t try and speak just relax.’

Charlie’s eyes held a look of sheer panic as the Operator tried to sit up and speak. ‘Lay back down, you’re in no fit state to start all this’ said Doyle moving into the Operator’s field on vision along with Bodie. Charlie started struggling harder and suddenly there was blood everywhere – somehow the Operator had managed to get hold of the cannula and had pulled it out of the vein. Next thing the two agents knew Charlie was half out of the bed, trying desperately to remove the feeding tube.

‘Charlie, lie down you dumb crud! Listen to me you’re going to hurt yourself calm down. Oi Duffy relax, it’s me Will’ Bodie shouted at Charlie in an attempt to get through the fear ‘for fucks sake Duffy stop fighting, you’re safe we got you out of Belfast!’

As Bodie was speaking the nurse came in with Murphy and the consultant in tow. ‘Right nurse 10mg of Valium now.’ 

‘No’ said Bodie turning to look at the consultant ‘wait, let me try and calm Charlie down a bit first.’

‘Hang on a minute.......’ said the consultant.

‘No, have you ever come out of something like this? No I didn’t think so. At the moment Charlie is confused and scared fucking witless – I’ve seen this before, hell I’ve experienced it. You’ve got no idea where the fuck you are or who has got you, you don’t even know you’re in hospital. Back off and let me deal with it for now! Murph get them outside for a few minutes, if I can’t calm Charlie down then they can try the shot but not yet.’

Murphy turned and managed to get the blustering consultant out into the corridor, explaining as he went what the disorientation was like for an agent after being hurt on an op. 

‘Doyle, I want you out as well’ said Bodie trying to get Charlie to lay back against the hastily raised bed head.

‘What? Why?’

‘Because I said so, now get, out please Ray?’

Doyle looked at his partners face and saw he was serious about coping with Charlie on his own ‘ok if you’re sure you can cope, I’ll be outside, shout if you need me’ he said as he opened the door and walked out of the room.

‘For fucks sake Duffy, will you give over and stop being such a stubborn bastard, you’re going to pull all the stitches open and leave the fucking tube alone. Why are you so fucking difficult to deal with? If you calm down I’ll get you sorted and explain why you can’t move.’

Charlie looked up at the familiar face and felt some of the panic starting to recede, if Bodie was there then things couldn’t be that bad and the Operator’s pulse started to slow. 

‘Right, don’t keep moving around you’ll set the machines off again and they’ll be in here trying to stick needles in you before you can blink. Are you going to behave, for just five minutes?’

Charlie stuck two fingers up at Bodie but lay back and nodded slowly at the agent.

‘About fucking time, you’d drive a saint to drink you would. Let’s start again, do you know where you are?’

Charlie nodded, the smell of the hospital was unmistakeable as were the sounds drifting in from the corridor.

‘Good, right I don’t suppose you remember much about how you got here so we’ll skip that part for now. You have had a massive bang on the head, again, got a busted jaw, ribs and that same fucking leg. Also you are now minus your spleen, thanks to a nasty gut shot, plus several pints of blood. Now do you understand why you can’t move and why that tube needs to stay where it is for now?’

Charlie looked at Bodie and then slowly tried running a hand over the various injuries, taking stock of the lumps, bumps and stitches. Charlie lay back and shuddered slowly, eyes tightly shut, hands trembling on the bed covers.

‘Yeah, not good right? How the fuck do you attract them mate, you’re lucky we thought you were a goner this time. That bang to the head fractured your skull this time – you took your sweet time coming round mate, it’s taken you two weeks and that’s with the aid of a drain to keep the swelling down. You’ve had everyone worried about you, they had to wait for most of the swelling to go down before they could move you back here. Do you remember anything, anything at all?’

Charlie looked at Bodie and then away refusing to meet his gaze.

‘I guess you remember some of it then, don’t worry about that now it’s not important’ said Bodie, realising what must have crossed Charlie’s mind. ‘What they’re all speculating about is how the fuck you managed to kill Callaghan, mind you after that little display you’ve just given them I think they might see how you did it. So are you going to be a good little soldier and let the medics get on with their jobs for now and sort yourself out. I know you’re not happy mate but things are going to get a lot worse before you get out of here, or the Hollies, for that matter. Don’t worry you’ll not be on your own, one of us will be around to pick up the pieces, fuck knows why given the way you behave.’

This time Bodie was treated to two sets of fingers.

‘And the same to you too! Look mate the sooner you co-operate the sooner you’ll be up and at ‘em.’

Tuesday 1 December 1981

Cowley sighed as he took off his glasses rubbing the bridge of his nose as he threw them down on his desk; it was times like these that being the Controller of CI5 weighed heavily on his conscience. The reports on his desk made for sad and depressing reading – another young life cut short, not by death this time, but by severe injury. Feeling his age and the responsibility of the impending loss of an agent, Cowley opened the desk drawer, removed the bottle of scotch and topped up the empty glass. Although he had not seen the agent for six months he had been keeping a close eye on their progress with the detailed weekly reports forwarded from the Hollies, marked for his eyes only. At first the reports had been quietly optimistic about the chances of recovery but as time had progressed the prognosis had become more and more bleak - the latest one clearly spelt out that the agent in question would never be able to work in the field again and even the prospect of being able to cope with a desk job was a very slim one. The most recent injuries, coupled with older ones, had not healed in the way the medical staff had hoped; the broken leg, even having been pinned, was very weak and could not support the agent without the use of crutches. Also included in the file were weekly reports from Dr Ross, which covered the agent’s mental state over the same period. Although Cowley didn’t particularly like the psychiatrist he valued her professional opinion highly, he knew that her reports were unbiased and that the interests of the organisation were foremost in her recommendations. Reading between the lines Cowley realised that while the agent had not been out and out lying they had been economical with the truth, not just over the last six months but throughout their time with the department. 

Cowley shuffled the files on his desk and found another file on the same agent detailing every psychiatric evaluation over the last eleven years. It would appear that on the surface the agent in question was mentally stable, however according to the detailed notes prepared by Kate Ross there had been a marked deterioration in the agent over the last six months. Dr Ross noted that this could be the result of the enforced inactivity or more worryingly, a symptom of the brain injury sustained. Dr Ross also noted that some of the problems could be attributed to the fact that for the first time in years the agent was not living a double life and was merely adjusting to ‘real’ life. Dr Ross concluded that the agent was suffering from post traumatic stress and, while apparently able to function, was very close to a complete breakdown; any further field work could prove to be disastrous both to the agent and potentially CI5. While Cowley applauded the ability of an agent to be able to immerse themselves in an undercover persona he also realised that after a prolonged period the ability to disassociate from that persona became harder and harder and eventually it could lead to the situation that Dr Ross was describing. Eventually the agent became a liability to themselves and others as the lines between reality and subterfuge became too blurred. Put simply the agent had reached the end of their useful life as an undercover operative.

Cowley picked up the phone ‘Betty, I would like you to set up a meeting with Sergeant Price’s commanding officer and 14 Company as soon as possible, also can you arrange for one of the doctors from the Hollies to be present along with Kate Ross.’ Cowley knew that Charlie had been discharged from the Hollies the previous Friday and had returned to London, which of his other agents had drawn the short straw for that job he could only hazard a guess. Hopefully Betty would be able to arrange the meeting for later that day or at worst the next morning – given the nature of news it was in everyone’s interest to sort out Sergeant Price’s future as a matter of urgency.

Charlie Price was bored, bored of not being able to go for a run, bored of not being able get to the range, bored of just about everything and bored of the incessant pain. Charlie was also angry and tired, the nightmares had become relentless and the Operator was fed up of existing on pills to sleep, pills for the pain and occasionally pills to wake up. It was time to try and cope with out the medicinal crutch and learn to live with the pain. Thankfully on this housing rotation, which had happened whilst still at the Hollies, Charlie had been again given a ground floor flat with a lock-up for the bike. Just as Charlie decided that it was about time to go and see if the leg would hold up to riding again the doorbell rang. Swearing Charlie climbed stiffly up off the settee ‘fucks sake let me get up and leave the fucking bell alone I’m coming!’ Finally reaching the door, Charlie undid the double locks and opened the door to find a grinning Murphy lounging against the frame.

‘Yes?’ Said Charlie.

‘And good morning to you too. Going to invite me in for coffee then?’

‘Why the fuck would I want to do that’ replied Charlie, trying not to move too quickly out of the way and loose balance.

‘Careful, where’s your stick?’

‘Ready to be inserted up your arse if you carry on Murph, stop fussing I can manage to walk from the lounge to the door and back without it!’ Charlie carefully walked back into the lounge resisting the urge to grab at the wall or furniture.

‘Yeah right mate, you’re not fooling anyone, sit down before you fall down you dumb crud. How long have you been home? Three days and you’re already trying to be superman. Stop trying to prove you’re fine, you’re not at the moment, just do as you’ve been told and take things easy.’

‘Fuck you Murph! What do you want anyway? I’m not fit company at the moment, so please forgive me if I don’t act like the perfect host, you want coffee, you can make it and get me something stronger while you’re at it.’

‘You can have coffee and lump it. I actually came round to see if you wanted to get out of here for a while but......’ said Murphy from the kitchen as he filled the kettle and set it to boil. ‘Where do you fancy?’

‘How ‘bout an afternoon tea dance at the Ritz? Look you’ve done your bit – coffee and sympathy so lets just cut the bullshit.’ Charlie slammed the mugs down on the counter and stared at Murphy hands on hips.

‘For fucks sake Charlie I’m not here doing the coffee and sympathy as you put it, I came round as a mate to try and give you a break from staring at the same four walls for days on end. I’m serious where do you fancy – pub by the river, cinema or a trip down the range to get rid of some of that pent up aggression?’

‘Ok, ok I’m sorry’ said Charlie holding up both hands in apology ‘I’m just out of sorts, you know what I’m like. Now you mention it a trip to the range might be just what I need – if I can’t fight anyone at least I can kill something even if it is only a paper target. Look I do appreciate you giving up your time like this even if I don’t show it.’

‘Right get your kit sorted and for fucks sake take your stick! I’ll make us that coffee.’

‘Yes mum’ grinned Charlie deciding to give in, fairly, gracefully to the force that was Murphy. ‘Actually Murph, can you give me a hand with something? They gave me this brace thing to help the leg, might be worth trying if I’m going to be standing for a while. Can’t say the idea appeals to me but anything for a peaceful life and I know you’ll only give me grief.’

After much swearing and laughing between the two of them they managed to get the brace on over Charlie’s jeans and they were able to leave for the range. Even though Charlie felt self-conscious wearing the brace it meant the Operator was able to get out and stand without too much fear of loosing balance. Charlie began to relax and by the time they reached the range felt better for being out of the flat and was even looking forward to the prospect of being able to vent some of the frustration that had been building. Thankfully they were the only people down in the basement and they were able to set up the twenty five metre targets without interruption, most of the other agents were either on standby or out on jobs so it looked like the place was theirs for the afternoon. They decided to take it in turns to let off half a dozen clips so that Charlie could sit down while Murphy took his turn. After a couple of hours Murphy stood up and touched Charlie on the shoulder and indicated that the Operator remove the ear-defenders so they could talk.

‘Come on mate, you look pretty done in. I don’t think the targets can take much more and I’m more than certain that the bean counters will be having a fit when they see how much ammo we’ve used. How’s the leg?’

‘Wait til we get back and I’ll let you know about the leg, at the moment it kind of feels numb. Thanks for this I really appreciate it, it was just what I needed’ replied Charlie realising that the brace was actually very good at keeping the leg stable whilst standing.

‘Don’t thank me just yet, lets get you home and see how things feel then. Do you fancy a drink on the way back or not?’

‘Not today mate, take me home and you can help me remove this thing. We can have a drink and get a takeaway there if you don’t mind.’

When Charlie and Murphy arrived back at the flat it was around five it was too early for food so they fought the brace and Charlie sat down relieved to be free of its restrictive support. Murphy looked at the Operator and saw the pain etched on Charlie’s face and body.

‘Come on tiger, bedroom now and get your kit off. You got some baby oil or something similar lying around, I’m going to give you a massage, work out some of those knots.’

‘Try the cabinet in the bathroom, there’s bound to be something in there you can use. Let me have a quick shower first then you can get your hands on my poor abused body.’

Murphy crossed the room and held out a hand to help Charlie up off the settee knowing that the Operator’s muscles be weak from the brace and sitting in the car. Charlie walked gingerly to the airing cupboard, conscious of the fact that the trip was made with the aid of both the wall and furniture and threw a bath sheet at Murphy to spread on the bed to protect it from oil. Charlie made it into the bathroom, stripped off and got into the shower. Murphy waited until Charlie was out of the shower to grab the bottle of scented oil from the bathroom cabinet. By the time Murphy returned to the bedroom, Charlie was lying face down on the towel, head pillowed on folded arms.

‘I’ve brought you another towel to cover your modesty. Come on turn over, sunny side up.’

‘Cover my modesty’ said Charlie rolling over ‘what modesty, do you honestly think I’ve got a modest bone in my body? What you see is what you get take it or leave it. You’ve already seen everything apart from the newest scars so what’s the point.’

Murphy stood beside the bed and waited for the Operator to get comfortable, cataloguing the still red scars on Charlie’s stomach and leg, after nearly eight months they had yet to fade to silver like the others. Most of the squad had scars from various encounters but no one could match Charlie for the number and variety none of which thankfully had marked the Operator’s face. Murphy poured some of the oil on to his hands and rubbed them together to warm the oil before starting at Charlie’s feet and working his way up the tense leg muscles. He worked slowly and methodically, applying enough pressure to break down the tight knots, gradually feeling the suppleness return to the long neglected body, taking time to work the oil into the newest scars to help soften the angry raised areas.

‘Oi sleeping beauty, turn over, let me do the other side and then you can have a nap.’

Charlie grunted and rolled over, settling face down on the bed already half asleep as a result of the massage. Murphy looked at the relaxed form in front of him and realised that he had never seen Charlie so totally at ease, completely comfortable with the situation. Finally finished Murphy sat back and wiped his hands watching the totally relaxed Operator sleeping peacefully, he pulled a blanket over Charlie, turned on the bedside light and crept out of the room.

Charlie woke to the smell of Indian takeaway and the low mumble of conversation coming from the other room and wandered out of the bedroom to see what food was on offer, fully expecting Murphy to be watching the TV on his own, not entertaining. 

‘How many times do we have to tell you, put something on before you frighten the neighbours’ said Bodie round a helping of onion bhaji. ‘There’s plenty to go round, help yourself.’

‘How’s the leg?’ Enquired Murphy.

‘Pretty good all things considered, ever thought about a change in career? You could make a fortune with those hands. I think I’m going to have to employ on you a permanent basis if you can make me feel that good!’ Said Charlie as the Operator returned to the bedroom to collect the tatty bathrobe.

‘What did we miss?’

‘Whatever it was it seems to have done Charlie the world of good.’

‘By the way there were a couple of calls for you while you were out of it – one from your mate Kev, he said he’d catch you later and the other was Cowley’ said Murphy.

‘What the did the old man want then?’

‘Only that he wants you in his office for a meeting at two Friday afternoon no excuses.’

Friday 4 December 1981

Charlie just managed to get through the door and set the locks before the leg gave out and the Operator sank to the floor grateful to be home. Sitting on the floor, back against the door the Operator tried to take in what had been said in Cowley’s office – invalided of not only the Army but also CI5, full pension from both and the option to carry on living in either this current flat or the courtyard flat for as long as Charlie wanted. Pain and frustration were beginning to flood through the Operator as Charlie fought to stand up. Heading for the telephone in the lounge, Charlie lurched through the flat grabbing whatever was to hand to prevent another undignified tumble to the floor. Charlie dialled the long memorised number and waited for the call to be connected.

‘I need to speak to the Boss, yes it’s Duffy, sure I’ll wait.’ Charlie managed to get the top buckles undone on the leg brace while the call was put through.

‘Boss, it’s Duffy, I need a face to face, no not now, ok I’ll be in touch.’ Charlie hung up, hoping that the call would slip through the monitoring at HQ – even though Charlie was off sick it was possible that the Operator could have information to pass on.

Charlie looked at the clock and saw it was early, nothing would be planned until later, in reality more likely tomorrow, which would give the Operator plenty of time to pack and put in place the necessary plans after speaking to Kevin. Charlie picked up the phone again, dialled another memorised number and waited for the person at the other end to pick up.

‘Murph, fancy a slap up takeaway chez moi?’

‘You offering to pay? If so what’s the catch?’

‘Thought you might be at a loose end and fancy some company – it’s easier for you to come to me than the other way round.’

‘I know you Duffy, there’s bound to be a catch.’

‘Thought I’d say thanks for getting me out the other day and sorting me out after.’

‘Well I suppose I could chance my arm – fish and chips, Indian or Chinese?’

‘Your choice I’ll pay you back.’

Murphy arrived about an hour later laden with a selection of cartons from the Chinese round the corner.

‘Oi where do you think you’re off to now?’ Asked Murphy as Charlie headed for the kitchen using the furniture for support. 

‘Well I usually I eat off a plate or at least use a knife and fork.’

‘Sit down and let me sort things out. How long have you been up on your feet today? Just do as you’re told for once, you really are a stubborn bastard Duffy, you’ll only fall over.’

‘Thanks for that, been talking to Bodie again?’

‘No, they’re off playing fetch and carry for some visiting pain in the arse, just using my superior observational skills.’ Murphy disappeared into the kitchen and soon came back with plates and cutlery plus a couple of glasses. ‘So how long you been up on that leg then?’

Charlie grabbed a spoon and started dishing up the food before answering ‘ couple of hours, not even that probably.’

‘Sod off and pull the other one, you’re the colour of old dishwater! Let me guess you’ve been up and about on it all day, I’m right aren’t I?’

‘Do we really have to have this conversation?’

‘Yep you know we do.’

‘Ok, let’s get it over with then! Yes I’ve been up and about all day, yes I’ve had the brace on all the time, it’s a bastard to get on and off, yes I’ve been out and about, yes my leg fucking hurts but most of all I want a bath but I can’t really cope on my own! Is there anything else you want to know or can I eat my Chinese before it gets cold?’

‘Dumb crud, eat and then we’ll sort out the other things after’ replied Murphy.

All conversation stopped while the pair of them made short work of the food. Once they’d finished eating Murphy refilled their glasses and they sat back in companionable silence with their drinks. Charlie looked at the clock and was surprised to see it was gone eight. Out of the corner of his eye Murphy saw Charlie surreptitiously trying to ease the aching leg without disturbing him.

‘Right, get your leg up on a chair and lets get this contraption off. How long have you been wearing it?’

Charlie realised that there was no point in trying to bluff and sighed ‘About twelve hours give or take.’

‘You are kidding right? I thought they told you at The Hollies to build up the time slowly over a couple of weeks and not to rush things. How the fuck did you ever make Sergeant and not get busted back down again. I’ll bet your CO’s love you!’

‘Why do you think I’ve spent so long in 14 Company, at least there they let you think for yourself and not continually follow orders like some mindless moron. I’ve been happy doing what I want without having to obey anyone all the time – can you see me kowtowing in an office somewhere having to watch what I say?’

Murphy looked at Charlie trying to imagine the Operator as some poor Rupert’s adjutant and started laughing.

‘What’s so funny – I can behave in polite company you know, I just don’t like taking orders from some jumped up little officer who’s never been in a life or death situation!’

‘None of us do but sometimes we have to grin and bear it. Right give us a hand with these buckles and then I’ll go and run that bath your so keen for. Do you want a hand getting into the bathroom?’

Charlie was about to refuse the offer of help but for once decided that a helping hand would be far better than going arse over ‘please if you don’t mind, I’m not sure my leg will carry me that far at the moment.’

‘Idiot, that’s why I offered.’

As Murphy undid the last buckle the Operator let out a huge sigh of relief, whilst good at doing it’s job the brace had a tendency to rub especially when worn over jeans. Charlie could feel that there were several sore patches where the denim had got creased and knew that there would likely be blisters which no doubt Murphy would comment on.

Ten minutes later Charlie was relaxing in the bath after being helped in by Murphy, with a glass of scotch in hand, listening to Murphy pottering about in the flat tidying away the Chinese cartons and doing the washing up. 

‘Oi, I hope you’re not breaking things out there – remember everything is in my name, I’m not paying for your clumsiness.’

‘I’ll have you know I’m very careful’ came the reply accompanied by a crash ‘oh bugger!’

Charlie went to climb out of the bath but could not get enough grip and ended up slipping completely under the water, suddenly Murphy heard the water sloshing over the edge of the bath. As he entered the bathroom, tea-towel in hand he was greeted by the sight of Charlie spluttering and cursing, trying to surface.

‘Now what the fuck are you trying to do? You really can’t be trusted or left alone for five minutes can you.’

‘I was trying to get out to see what you’d broken in the kitchen – I warn you you’re paying for whatever it is you’ve broken!’

‘Just stay still and relax, I only walked into an open door and it slammed shut so stop worrying about things. Right are you done?’

Murphy leant over the bath and pulled the plug out, then offered Charlie a helping hand to climb out. As Charlie reached for the warming bath towel Murphy noticed how red and angry the Operator’s leg was where the brace had been rubbing all day. Suddenly Charlie went as white as the tiles and tumbled to the floor without warning. Murphy made to grab the Operator before Charlie’s head collided with either the toilet or the sink.

Charlie came round slowly wrapped in the towel propped up in bed.

‘What happened?’

‘You took a very graceful swan dive in the bathroom – too much alcohol and pills combined with you being in a hot bath for too long. How do you feel now?’

‘Woozy’ replied Charlie trying to climb out of bed.

‘Err, I don’t think so mate, you just stay there for now otherwise you’ll end up back at the Hollies which I’m sure is the last place you want to be for Christmas.’

‘Too fucking right’ growled Charlie ‘there’s no way I’m going back there to be prodded, poked and analysed every five minutes. Just stop fussing Murph and let me get on with things my own way, I’m big enough and ugly enough to cope on my own. I’ve done it before and it didn’t do me any harm anyway I’ve got things I need to sort out.’

‘Like what, nothing that can’t wait a day or so surely? At the moment you are going nowhere understand?’

‘Sod off Murph I need to get up to Catterick and sort some things out from my flat that I need down here, I should only be gone a couple of days, a week at most, so I’ll be back in time for the Christmas bash. Speaking of that who’s got the dubious pleasure of hosting it this year and when is it?’

‘God you’re bloody stubborn aren’t you? You’d turn a saint to drink with all your tricks. As for the Christmas bash, it’s early this year it’s pencilled in for the Friday before Christmas but there is talk of having another one on New Years Eve as well if our heads can take it. Last I heard it was meant to be at Bodie’s but it depends on how long they are playing fetch and carry. So what’s so important that it can’t wait til the new year?’

‘Mainly personal bits, nothing big or heavy if that’s what you’re worrying about – it’s mainly paperwork. And no I won’t be going on the bike before you start on me. I’m hoping to travel up by train on Monday, if that’s acceptable to you?’

‘Since when have you listened to any of us, you’ll do just as you please like you always do’ laughed Murphy. ‘Right is there anything else you want before I push off?’ Murphy looked at Charlie and waited to see if the Operator would ask for another massage to help ease the aching and abused muscles.

‘Well, seeing as you’re offering…..’

‘Come on then’ said Murphy helping Charlie out of the towel and pulling back the bedding before spreading the towel out for the Operator to lie on. By the time Murphy returned with the oil from the bathroom Charlie was stretched out face down on the bed head pillowed on scarred arms. Murphy poured some oil on to his hands and took the opportunity to really observe the battered body in front of him; as he looked at Charlie he could see how much weight and muscle the Operator had lost over the past six months. He had been aware that Charlie had lost weight when he carried the Operator in from the bathroom but now the body was laid out before him he could see that most of the weight loss was due to muscle wastage. Also the broken jaw had compounded the situation as it had taken a good couple of months to heal and during that time Charlie had been on a liquid diet which, although overseen by the medical staff, did nothing to aid weight gain. Murphy worked slowly and methodically on the abused muscles and when he was satisfied that they had begun to soften he urged Charlie to roll over so he could work on the rest of the Operators body. As Murphy worked he became aware that Charlie was completely relaxed and when he looked up he could see that Charlie had fallen asleep. As Charlie slept Murphy went back to the bathroom and collected some anti-septic cream and worked it carefully into the sores and blisters, mindful not to burst them.

Murphy carefully pulled the bedding up over the sleeping Operator, went and fetched a fresh glass of water and the painkillers and leaving them within reach he let himself out of the flat ensuring that the double locks would engage when the door closed.

Wednesday 9 December 1981

Charlie slowly struggled out of bed, carefully testing the leg before heading for the kitchen via the walls and furniture as had become the norm since returning from The Hollies. Kettle and toast on the go, Charlie looked round for the bottle of pain killers and swore realising it was in the bedroom next to the bed. The kettle boiled and Charlie decided that the tablets could wait until after breakfast as there was no point in making two trips in the same direction when one would do for both a wash and collecting the useless medication. Charlie knew that the current painkillers would only keep the pain away for a minimum amount of time and that soon it would be time to up the dose of morphine just to function on a basic level. 

Struggling with the coffee and toast the Operator made it to the table without any mishaps and sat down to contemplate the writing pad left there from the previous evening. Charlie eyed the scrawled words marching across the page and forced the rising bile back down – for fucks sake how could writing letters be so scary? Charlie had faced much harder challenges, there was no way a few letters were going to get the better of the veteran. Determined to finish the letters with a clear head Charlie decided that the painkillers could wait until everything was done, then and only then would Charlie deal with the future. Picking up the pen Charlie started to write:

Dear George

There’s not a lot you can do about me calling you that now I’m gone but I think Dear Mr Cowley is far too stuffy and formal for what I need to say to you.

I’m sorry for upsetting you all, especially at this time of year, but you of all people can understand how difficult it is to live with constant pain with no hope of improvement. You know how it eats away at you and that ever stronger painkillers are not the answer – no matter how careful you are they do dull your reactions. You need to know that we are all capable of doing our jobs to the best of our ability. Unfortunately I am getting to the point where I need to increase the dose I am taking just to get out of bed in the morning – the morphine I’m on is dictating my life, if I am late taking it I start sweating and shaking. I know I’ve become addicted to them, the last thing you need on the squad or in the office is a junkie. I’ve become a liability to both you and CI5 – the poor crippled ex-A squad agent only good enough to wheel out to the new recruits with a warning saying this is how you too could end up if you don’t keep fit.

I’ve had enough George, of everything – the pain, the killing, the nightmares and the guilt but mostly the pain. They say if you can’t do the time don’t commit the crime but in our line of work it should be if can’t cope with the guilt or pain don’t join a mob like ours.

I hope you can see I tried to live an honest a life as I could given the hand I was dealt, at least what I’ve done has been done on the side of the angels and hopefully I helped to keep the smell of lavender and roses fresh for at least a little while.

Goodbye George and thank you for the chance to work for you for the last eighteen months, I only wish it could it have been longer. Please keep an eye on the three amigos, they will all react in different ways as I’m sure you are aware, don’t be too hard on them. My being gone is going to take some getting used to for them; Ray will blame himself for not noticing and stepping in, Murphy will probably look for some sort of secondment and Bodie? Well you know Bodie he’ll lock it away behind that mask of his that he wears – but underneath he’ll be hurting. Nothing you could have said or done would have made a difference – my mind has been made up for a long time.

Charlie Price

Charlie stood up from the table and headed for the bedroom to collect a couple of the painkillers – sitting down could be almost as painful as standing, it seemed to make no difference, the muscles would spasm no matter what the Operator did. Charlie took the tablets, washing them down with a generous helping from the open bottle of scotch on the bedside table and went back to carry on with the letters.

Murph

How do I say goodbye without breaking part of your heart? I want to thank you for the fun we’ve had, the days when my sides didn’t stop hurting for all the laughs we had. You truly are one of life’s good guys, how you got caught up in all this death and mayhem is beyond me. You are a loner like me, an island but hopefully we managed to create a bridge to the mainland. The four of us have had some amazing times and I hope the photos will remind you of them, especially last New Years Eve. Take time to look at the photos and remember the good times, don’t dwell on the last six months. The photos I’ve chosen to leave you helped me when I was at The Hollies – they reminded me of how much we all mean to each other. During those dark and painful days I’d come back to my room and look at them, they made me smile, gave me hope that one day I’d be back out on the streets with the three of you. I’ve realised now that will never happen – there’s no way I will ever be fit enough to be an active agent again. Every day I struggle with the most basic of tasks and I have become reliant on pills to make it through.

I’m tired – tired of pretending that everything is alright, that I’m able to cope. All my adult life I’ve hidden behind a mask afraid to let people see the real me. I’ve had enough of living a lie, I’ve had enough of the pain and deceit, even in my darkest moments I have not been able to let anyone in – I’ve hidden it with pills or the bottle. I hurt and I need for that hurt to end, I need an end to all the pain. I know things will get worse, they have since I came home to be honest and I want for the chance for it to end while I am still able to make that decision and carry it out. I do not want to be that agent that people talk about but never visit.

They say suicide is a cowards way out but believe me it isn’t. This has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done, give me a lunatic determined to shoot me or a bomb to diffuse and I could deal with them. Even the events in Belfast were easy in comparison to the last six months, at least then I knew I could overcome my injuries but the damage this time was too severe to recover from.

Saying goodbye is hard but saying it to each of you in person would have broken me. I hope you can understand what I’ve done – I’m not asking for forgiveness just an understanding of why I did what I did. Remember the good times and know how much you are loved.

Charlie  
xxxx

Charlie looked up at the clock and realised that the morning was almost gone and there were still two more letters to write, at least the painkillers had deadened some of the pain and this time standing and walking were a little easier. Charlie decided that it would be wise to eat something for lunch and set about finishing off what was left in the fridge. Charlie made a mug of coffee and fought the urge to take some more painkillers – they could wait until a bit later. Back at the table Charlie looked at the two envelopes on the table, it would be obvious to whoever found them what they were, no explanations were required.

 

Ray

If I know you, you will be blaming yourself for what has happened, you’ll be thinking maybe you could have done more. You are not responsible for what has happened anymore than anyone else – this was my choice, my decision and my way of being in control. You must have realised that there was no way I was ever going to make it back to any kind of fitness that would allow me to continue working for CI5. Ever since I joined up I have been active, both mentally and physically, working in an office is not for me – I don’t think I’d have lasted even a week stuck at a desk. The thought of never being a firefight, or any kind of fight, not being able to run whenever I want or worse still not being able to ride a bike – that’s a living death for me. I’m thirty five years old, what kind of life do I have ahead of me? Another twenty or thirty years slowly becoming more and more disabled, more and more dependent on others is not for me.

I’ve always been in charge of my life and now I’m in charge of my death, seems only fitting to me to be able to choose the how and the when, not to have it decided by someone else. Life is cruel and death can be for those left behind. Remember this though, I am at peace and happy, not to leave you all behind but to be free – free from pain, free from guilt and free from all the pretence that my life has been. Guilt is a double edged sword in our business, it shows you care but at the same time caring can be dangerous. I don’t feel guilty for things ending the way they have, just guilty and sorry that my actions will hurt all of you. I think you know my feelings for each of you, treasure my memory and hold on to my heart.

Enjoy the bike – ride it often and remember good times. Live life in the moment and live it to the full for you never know what is waiting in the shadows. Ours is a short and violent life so live fast, love hard and laugh loud.

Charlie  
xxxx

Charlie put the pen down, unable to hold it as the pain took hold and the Operator’s hands began to shake – the call of the morphine was hard to resist but Charlie was determined not to give in to it until the final and hardest letter had been written. Writing the letters had taken it’s toll, both emotionally and physically and Charlie felt drained and wrung out, the leg was cramping and the Operator’s head felt ready to explode. Charlie decided to move to the settee and relax for half an hour before tackling the letter to Bodie. Charlie managed to make it to the settee but was sweating and shaking badly, desperate for a tablet but determination to relax won out over the call for the mind numbing narcotic. The Operator fell into a fitful doze plagued by disturbing images from the past. Charlie woke about an hour later feeling slightly less shaky and made to stand up but the leg gave way and the Operator fell to floor swearing. Eventually the Operator managed to crawl over to the chair and frustratedly Charlie sat down to complete the last letter.

Dear Will (don’t start on me now it’s far too late for you to moan)

Where do I begin? You of all people know me best and I hope you of all people can understand why I’ve done what I’ve done. We’ve known each other so long and in a way we’ve grown up together, both at work and outside, followed the same sort of careers even if we haven’t always kept in touch. We’ve both worked hard, played hard, ridden hard and fast, together and apart. Do you remember that fresh faced young para sent to clean up in Belfast, what was it eleven years ago? Do you remember that first meeting with Duffy? You’ve seen me when I was green and raw and you’ve seen what I’ve become over the years – a hardened, cynical bastard with no morals, ready to kill and maim to order. I’ve become Duffy, Charlie Price doesn’t exist anymore. Perhaps if Duffy were more likeable then it wouldn’t be so hard to accept what has happened, you could say that Duffy deserved to be suffering, paying for all deaths and pain I’ve caused. I can’t live like this any longer, I’ve spent so long keeping the two identities separate that to break down the walls now is impossible. Do you remember how I reacted that last time in hospital – only by addressing me as Duffy could you get through the fear and panic.

The last six months have been a living hell, even worse than those months after Belfast. Every time the medical staff addressed me as Sergeant Price it took time for me to realise they were talking to me. The recovery has been been so hard – maybe they should have taken the leg off instead of trying to pin it, I might have been more mobile if they had. The pain is indescribable and the frustration of not being able to walk properly is heartbreaking but the thing I miss most is being able to ride. When I got home I went out to the garage and tried just sitting on the bike – my leg couldn’t take it, there’s nothing there to work with, there never will be even if I had the best physios I will never walk without the brace or crutches nor have the strength to control a bike.

You of all people understand me when I say this should have ended three and a half years ago, it would have saved everyone the heartache. I suppose I should be thankful for the extra time and to have made it to thirty five without a bullet in the back of the head – how many of my contemporaries are still alive doing the same job? Nearly all those I’ve served with are either dead or had the sense to quit before they got injured, there’s no-one else like me left still putting their arse on the line time and time again. Let me ask you if you think any of this has been worth it, do you honestly think anything Duffy has done has changed the situation in Ireland? Maybe we’ve been able to take out some of the main players of the time, maybe we’ve managed to put a dent in their plans from time to time but have we realistically improved things? Nothing changes, cut off one of their arms and the PIRA grow another which slips under the radar until one of us stumbles across their plans.

Maybe I should have stayed in Belfast and not left as a teenager, fought for what I thought was right but if I had I wouldn’t have met you all and done the things I’ve done. I’d have been dead years ago, probably buried in an unmarked grave somewhere with no-one to mourn me. I know I’ve lead a charmed life (go on laugh I can just see your face), well in comparison to some, but I can’t go on any longer. My body is failing, I’ve become addicted to the pills, the demons are calling me and it’s time to pay the ferryman, Charon has been stalking me for quite some time. You out of all of us understand the demons – I’ve seen you in the night, heard you scream, seen you fight them in your sleep, just as you’ve seen and heard me. The problem is I can’t close Pandora’s box anymore – Kate Ross has seen to that – unlike you. Every day the demons are there calling me, demanding payment and I can’t fight their call any longer. Sleep is hard to come by – I take pills to help me get to sleep and then I need to take pills to help me wake up but most of the time none of them work. My days pass in a pain filled haze and the nights are no better, without the pills I can’t function, I get the shakes and sweats, with them I turn into a zombie.

Do you remember the day I came round in the hospital scared out of my brain? You asked me how much I remembered about the hit and run, I remember every last detail about it and when they got me to hospital, what they told me. I know you saw my notes, you were listed as next of kin, the look on your face as you turned away told me you knew everything. What you don’t know is that I only went back to Belfast as a favour to Kev – they’d heard something on the grapevine and needed someone who could blend in, to check it out, so he contacted me. That was to be my last mission for 14 Company, I’d been to see the CO the week before, told them I was resigning and joining CI5 permanently because I couldn’t take anymore risks. I knew what damage had been done when I got shot, the broken bones were not important, they would mend (well that’s what was supposed to happen). Now you can understand why Callaghan had to die the way he did – he took away my future, he ultimately took away my life, there was no way I could let him live even though I was so badly injured. I’m sure by now you must have worked out what happened that last day in Belfast back in ‘77 and why I was so frustrated when you took my revenge on Riley – if I had been able I would have killed him but it wasn’t to be. Killing Callaghan helped dissipate some of the rage I still felt – ultimately they both took away so much of me and my future.

I’ve caused and seen so much death over the last seventeen years, it’s time for it to come to an end, I’ve got nothing left to give, my mind and body are broken beyond repair. If I was a suffering dog I’d have been put down long ago, what’s so different to me ending to this existence, I’ve nothing left to live for. Maybe you alone can understand why this has to end, maybe you can’t but please don’t hate me for doing what I believe is right. If I ever meant anything to you honour my decision and hold on tight to my memory. Treasure the memories we made together and think of me often, try not to dwell on how things went wrong. At least we had the opportunity to put things right I’m just sorry we didn’t have longer together. Just one last thing – raise a glass to me on St Patrick’s Day and try to remember the fun times we’ve had over the years.

Charlie  
xxxx

Finally finished Charlie looked round, realising that the evening was starting to draw in and reached to turn on the lamp beside the table, slowly massaging some feeling back into the leg. Thankfully this time when Charlie made to stand up the leg felt slightly better and was able to support the Operator’s weight. Charlie decided that discretion was the better part of valour and used the furniture to help get to the bedroom – now came the hardest part, there was no reason to put it off any longer. Reaching the bedroom, Charlie looked round trying to work out how to get the necessary items to the bathroom in as few trips as possible – pillow, pills, scotch and finally the Browning. Pillow tucked under one arm, the Browning in the waistband of the jeans, Charlie was able to hang on to the wall whilst carrying the pills and scotch in the other hand. As Charlie headed into the bathroom the Operator could see the letters on the table – they would be the first thing anyone coming into the flat would see, too bad that the light was still on, Charlie didn’t have the strength to cross the room and turn it off. 

Charlie made it to the bathroom, turned on the light, closed the door quietly, turning the lock and set about sorting out the things – the pillow went into the bath opposite the taps and the two bottles on the floor. Charlie sat down on the edge of the bath, removed the gun from the waistband checked that there was at least one round in the clip and reached for the mixture of painkillers and sleeping tablets. It wasn’t that the Operator was afraid but Charlie had decided that the mixture along with the scotch would ensure that even if the bullet didn’t do it’s job then the combination of pills and alcohol would ensure that the Operator would not recover. Charlie climbed gingerly into the bath, careful not to slip and fall, reached for the scotch and the first of the pills and leaned back adjusting the pillow until it was comfortable. 

As Charlie sat in the bath slowly drinking the alcohol and taking the pills, the Operator’s thoughts turned back to the last eighteen months working for CI5 and the friendships that had been forged and regretted that things had come to such an abrupt end. Finally Charlie decided that the pills and alcohol were beginning to work, the world had a wonderful fuzzy edge to it and the Operator was finding it hard to concentrate, the time had come. Charlie mentally said goodbye to friends and colleagues, took hold of the Browning, bit down on the muzzle and calmly pulled the trigger.

Saturday 12 December 1981

‘Right,’ said Bodie ‘I’m done, how about you? You finished your latest masterpiece yet?’

Doyle looked up from the typewriter and watched his partner prowling round the cramped office.

‘Will you sit down or go and run up and down the stairs a couple of times if you need to burn off some excess energy. Just got to sign this and then we can escape.’

‘I’m off then, meet you at the car if you want a lift, do you fancy a quick pint and a takeaway?’

‘Yeah whatever but I want a shower and a change of clothes first’ said Doyle not realising that Bodie had already gone. Doyle picked up both of their reports, turned off the light as he left the office and dropped them on Betty’s desk on the way out to find his partner. By the time Doyle found Bodie, the snow which had threatened for the last few days had begun to fall in earnest and he turned up his collar as he walked across the car park.

‘Bit parky out there, reckon we’ll get that white Christmas they keep promising us mate?’

‘Don’t know about that but maybe you should try wearing something a little more appropriate for the time of year either that or try doing up a couple of buttons. Right food or home first?’

‘Straight back to mine as it’s closer, you order a takeaway while I take a shower and then you can have one while we wait for it to be delivered. We’ll just need to stop at the off-licence on the way and stock up on beer.’

‘Sounds like a plan, Chinese or Indian?’

‘How about trying that new Indian in the high street up near the traffic lights, it’s supposed to be quite good.’

Bodie slipped the car into gear and pulled out the car park mindful of the slippery conditions and the fact that the Capri’s back end was liable to drift in the wet. Luckily the weather seemed to have convinced people to use public transport and the roads were surprisingly empty for a Saturday two weeks before Christmas and Bodie was able to negotiate the streets to Doyle’s flat with relative ease.

Bodie put the beers in the fridge to chill and the Indian on a low heat in the oven to keep it from spoiling, which he’d picked up when Doyle went to get the beers. Hearing the shower start Bodie wandered into the lounge, helped himself to a drink from the cabinet, switched on the TV and sat back to catch the football scores. Ten minutes later Bodie’s peace was disturbed when Doyle walked in from the shower and dropped a damp towel on his head en-route to the drinks cabinet.

‘All yours mate, there should be enough hot water left or do you want to eat first?’ asked Doyle just as Bodie’s stomach rumbled loudly, ‘well I guess that answers that then!’

‘Sorry, but I’m a growing lad, I need my three square meals a day and lunch certainly didn’t seem to touch the sides. I’ll sort out plates and you get it out of the oven, should still be warm enough.’

They both went into the kitchen and Bodie sorted out the plates while Doyle turned off the oven and grabbed the containers and dished up the meal, sharing the different curries and sides between the two of them. A beer in one hand and a plate of food in the other they sat down to eat the much anticipated meal – as Bodie had intimated their hastily grabbed lunch had been both meagre and disappointing. 

‘Bloody good this is’ said Bodie round a mouthful of onion bhaji and Bombay potato.

‘Mmm, not bad I’ve had better and I’ve had worse, still it hits the spot. Another beer?’

‘Cheers.’

Doyle got up and came back a couple of moments later with two more beers. 

‘You heard from Charlie lately?’ asked Bodie as he took the can.

‘Not for a few days, didn’t Murph say Charlie was heading up north?’

‘Yeah, should be back by now, thought one of us might have heard something.’

‘Why don’t you ring and we’ll pop round, spread a bit of early Christmas cheer.’

‘Ok, check how bad it is out there’ said Bodie as he dialled Charlie’s number.

Doyle grabbed the plates and cutlery, dumping them in the sink and peered out of the window. ‘It’s still coming down but not as heavy as before and the roads look fairly clear from here.’

As he walked back into the living room Bodie was just putting the phone down.

‘No reply, don’t want to get Central on the case so I didn’t let ring for too long. Right then, all ready to face the elements Oates?’

Doyle disappeared into the bedroom and came out wearing a thick cable knit jumper under his jacket ‘How come you get to be Captain Scott then?’

‘Because it was my idea to brave the weather and I’m driving remember?’

‘Just so long as we make it in one piece Captain. Go and get the car warmed up, I’m right behind you.’

By the time Doyle made it out to the street Bodie was nowhere in sight, however he couldn’t be far away as he’d left the engine running on the Capri in an effort to clear the windows and raise the temperature above freezing. Glancing quickly left and right Doyle bent down to grab a handful of snow ready for the sneak attack that Bodie was bound to launch. Just as he stood up Bodie popped up from the other side of the Capri and launched a well aimed snowball into Doyle’s face.

‘Bastard, just you wait’ shouted Doyle shaking the snow out his hair ‘you’ll regret that mate!’

Bodie just grinned across the roof of the car and ducked down again to grab another ready made snowball however he hadn’t bargained on Doyle’s speed and as he stood up he was greeted with a handful of snow straight down the back of his polo neck.

‘Fuck! That’s fucking cold’ he said trying desperately to shake the snow loose as quick as possible. ‘That’s below the belt that is I only threw one at you, why did you have to do that? Now I’m soaked, right you’ve asked for it now this means war!’  
Twenty minutes later, red faced, sweating and rather damp they both decided that they had enough fun and since the only snow left wasn’t suitable to provide decent ammunition the time had come for a truce.

‘At least it should be warm in the car and we might be able to thaw out a bit’ said Doyle as he collapsed in the passenger seat and watched the steam start to rise from his damp clothes.

‘The only problem is all this damp clothing is going to make the windscreen steam up again – it’s all your fault’ replied Bodie trying to create a clear patch to see through.

‘Err how do you work that one out then Einstein as you’re the one who started it?’

‘I might have started it but you decided to take things to the next level, ergo it’s your fault.’

‘So you’re saying if you hadn’t thrown the first snowball then I wouldn’t have retaliated, so I should have just accepted things and got in the car?’

‘Basically, yes. ‘

Doyle looked sideways at his partner and shook his head – sometimes Bodie’s logic was beyond him ‘ah but if you hadn’t thrown the first one I might have and then you would have been to blame.’

The friendly banter about who was to blame carried on as they drove through the quiet slushy streets as the snow carried on drifting lazily down adding to the undisturbed patches on roofs and window sills. Living in London it was unusual for the snow to cause much disruption but if it carried on overnight it could prove to be an interesting drive to work. Luckily it was still fairly early and the roads were relatively clear of snow so Bodie managed the drive over to Charlie’s flat without incident. Bodie parked the car in front of the lock-up where Charlie kept the bike and noted that there were no fresh footprints in the snow either outside the lock-up or heading towards the flat but he realised that it would have been highly unlikely that Charlie would have risked the trip given the weather.

As Bodie locked up Doyle rang the bell and stood back waiting for Charlie to let them in out of the cold. After a couple of minutes Bodie reached round and unlocked the door, calling out who it was.

‘Right you check the living room and kitchen – put the kettle on while you’re there – and I’ll check the bedroom and bathroom’ said Bodie as he strode down the hall leaving Doyle to set the locks. ‘Looks like Charlie’s home, there’s at least one light on.’

Bodie reached the bedroom and turned on the light, no sign of Charlie but he spotted the empty rucksack beside the bed and the discarded leg brace. As he turned to leave the room his eye caught sight of the empty holster lying on the chest of drawers and guessed Charlie must have been cleaning the guns earlier. Walking back out of the bedroom, having turned off the light, he could hear Doyle filling the kettle in the kitchen but although he had called out when they entered the flat there had been no reply from Charlie. Bodie wondered if perhaps the Operator had gone out but he recalled that the brace was in the flat, as was Charlie’s trade mark leather jacket. As Doyle hadn’t called out that he’d found Charlie Bodie guessed that Charlie must be in the bathroom and hadn’t heard them.

‘Oi mate, make yourself decent, I’m coming in’ he called.

Just as Bodie made to open the door he heard Doyle calling him from the living room.

‘Bodie, get here now!’

‘Hold your horses, I’m just checking the bathroom.’

‘Bodie I wouldn’t go in there mate, get here now, you need to see this.’

‘What the fuck, ok I’m coming, keep your wig on!’

As Bodie walked down the hallway he suddenly realised that it was freezing in the flat, colder in-fact than it had been outside ‘sort the heating out mate, it’s like a morgue in here’ he said as he walked into the living room to see Doyle standing by the table, his face half in shadow, staring at something in his hands.

‘Don’t joke Bodie’ said Doyle looking up from what Bodie realised was an envelope. ‘You better take a look at these before you do anything else.’

Bodie looked closely at his partners face and realised that Doyle skin was ashen. ‘It’s only Charlie’s unopened post, I’m going back to the bathroom and sort that heating out.’

‘If it’s only Charlie’s unopened post – why are there four letters one addressed to you, me, Murphy and Cowley? How can that be Charlie’s post? I think I know why the heatings off – you check the bathroom, I’m going to call Central and don’t touch anything!’

‘What are you blathering on about Ray,’ said Bodie as he turned and left the room ‘maybe the pilots gone out on the boiler and that’s why it’s so cold.’ This time as he walked down the hall Bodie drew his gun, something was pricking at his subconscious – why was Charlie’s holster lying on the side in the bedroom not in the living room and where was the gun cleaning kit?

‘Charlie, fuck no’ he shouted as he kicked at the locked bathroom door. The lock gave way and as he charged into the bathroom Bodie notice the empty pill bottles lying on the floor next to the remains of a bottle of Scotch. Doyle came running down the hall and stopped at the broken door, watching as Bodie pulled back the shower curtain and saw the look of grief on his partner’s face. As he turned away to call in what they had found he could hear Bodie talking quietly to Charlie, his voice breaking.

‘Oh mate, why did you have to go and do that, couldn’t you have talked to one of us? Were things really that bad that you couldn’t face us and tell us what was wrong?’

While he waited for Cowley and the others whose job it was to deal with things to arrive, Doyle wandered into the kitchen and finished making the interrupted tea for something to do to take his mind off what had happened in the flat. He could still hear Bodie faintly talking to Charlie in the bathroom so he left his partner alone to deal with his shock and grief. Doyle looked round the kitchen and realised that there were no plates or cups lying around as was normal for an agents flat – in fact nothing was out of place and when he opened the fridge he found that there was only the remains of a pint of milk in it, everything else had been disposed of. 

Doyle walked out of the kitchen carrying two mugs of tea and left one outside the bathroom for Bodie, then went into the living room to sit and wait for Cowley. As he walked back into the room his eyes were drawn to the letters on the table and he wondered whether he should open his or wait until Cowley handed them over. Suddenly Doyle was hit by a wave of frustration over the loss of yet another good agent and an even better friend, he could only guess at how badly this was going to affect Bodie, he hoped that things would become clearer when they read Charlie’s words to each of them and that they could understand the events leading up to the Operator’s devastating actions.

The ringing of the door bell disturbed Doyle’s introspection and as he got up to let Cowley in he realised that an hour had passed since he’d rung Central. As he opened the door Doyle was aware that even though it was still snowing it felt several degrees warmer outside than in the flat.

‘Report Doyle’ said Cowley as he shook the snow from his jacket.

‘Bodie and I decided that we would come over and visit Charlie, first chance we’ve had since Charlie got back from The Hollies, Bodie rang but no-one answered, so we just decided to head on over anyway. When we got here there was no reply when we rang the bell, Bodie let us in with a spare key – the living room light was on and we assumed that Charlie was probably in the shower and hadn’t heard the bell. Bodie went to check the bedroom and bathroom while I checked the kitchen and the living room. As I said the light was on in here by the table and I saw the envelopes lying on the table, there were four addressed to you, me, Bodie and Murphy – thats when I realised something was wrong. As Bodie came back down the hall he commented on how cold the flat was, in fact his words were it’s like a morgue in here. I showed him the letters and told him not to touch anything, by now I knew what we would find, but he dismissed them as unopened post and started back towards the bathroom. Next thing I heard was him kicking down the door – I caught up with him as he pulled back the shower curtain.’

‘Where is Bodie now?’

‘Still in the bathroom, I think, I haven’t checked, I figured I’d give him some space, Sir.’

‘And the letters?’

‘Still on the table, nothing else has been touched – everything is as we found it apart from the kettle and mugs.’

‘Suicide Doyle or something else?’

‘The letters suggest Charlie was responsible, not only that the kitchen was immaculate – even the fridge had been cleared out apart from some milk. The locks were set when we came in and nothing appears to be missing.’

‘Who was the last person to see Sergeant Price?’

‘I’m guessing it would have been Murphy but that would have been last weekend – he said Charlie was planning on going up to Catterick to sort some personal stuff out and would be away for a few days, a week at most.’

‘When was the last time either of you saw or spoke to Sergeant Price?’

‘At The Hollies, we’ve both been tied up with that babysitting job, so about two, two and half weeks ago.’

Cowley picked up the letters from the table, put them in his pocket and turned to walk down the hall to the bathroom ‘stay here, I’ve a feeling your partner might need you to drive him home.’

‘Yes Sir’ replied Doyle watching his boss walk away, he was glad he hadn’t followed Bodie into the bathroom – he’d seen enough suicides in the past and the thought of seeing a friend in that state was not something he wished to be party to.

As Cowley approached the bathroom he could hear Bodie talking softly and he was conscious of intruding so he coughed loudly and paused to allow his agent time to compose himself before walking in. Bodie stood up as his boss walked in and Cowley saw the mask fall into place once again – how many times had his agent shown no emotion where Charlie Price was concerned. Cowley followed Bodie’s gaze and looked at the figure in the bath, apart from the gun dangling limply in the Operator’s hand and the blood stained pillow Charlie looked at peace. Cowley noted the empty bottles beside the bath, strangely they were the only things out of place in the flat and realised that this had not been a cry for help. 

‘Sir,’ said Bodie to a spot somewhere over Cowley’s left shoulder ‘at least Charlie is at peace now. I’ll let you and the others get on with things now. I’d like to go with Charlie in the ambulance if that is ok?’ 

‘Bodie, I’m sorry laddie, I know you had rekindled your friendship over the last eighteen months, this must be very difficult for you. Wouldn’t you rather have Doyle take you home?’

‘No Sir, Charlie’s my responsibility.’

‘Aye laddie, you’re right. Do you want to make the necessary arrangements?’

Bodie nodded and walked out of the bathroom.

Wednesday 17 March 1982

As the silver Capri turned down the narrow lane towards the graveyard a weak and watery sun poked its reluctant face out of the scudding clouds racing in front of the westerly wind, the delicate beams highlighting the early blossom on the wild cherries, their petals dancing to an invisible tune. It had been three months since Charlie’s funeral and finally the headstone had been erected now that the weather had improved. As Bodie pulled up in front of the lych gate he heard a familiar sound heading in his direction – he would have recognised the big Moto Guzzi anywhere. For a moment the sound threw him and he expected to turn round to see Charlie climbing off the bike, a wide smile on the Operator’s face and exhilaration glowing in the blue eyes but then as the sun dived behind a convenient cloud, he remembered that Charlie was gone. The bike pulled up and as the rider removed their helmet he smiled and nodded at Doyle.

‘St Patrick’s Day aint it’ said Doyle hanging the helmet on the bars of the bike, he then rescued a bunch of forget-me-nots from the pannier ‘you thought I’d forgotten didn’t you?’

‘Wasn’t sure any of us would be free, so I came down by myself. You seen Murphy?’

‘Don’t worry, he promised he’d be here come hell or George Cowley’ replied Doyle.

As Bodie leant back into the car to grab the flowers they had clubbed together for, he heard another vehicle making its way down the lane.

‘Locals must be wondering if they’ve been invaded – must be the most visitors they’ve had in months’ said Murphy as he climbed out of the car clutching a few sprigs of shamrock ‘thought this would be fitting given what day it is.’

The three friends made their way through the graveyard following the path until they reached Charlie’s grave complete with the new headstone:

 

Charlie Duffy

(Sergeant Charlotte Price)

17 June 1946 – 9 December 1981

Died as a result of injuries sustained in the line of duty

One Up Til Death Us Do Join

 

One by one they laid the flowers on the grave and stood back, each lost in their own thoughts and memories of the enigmatic agent, most of them happy but inevitably the last few months and their reason for being there were upper most. Doyle tapped Murphy on the shoulder and nodded towards the gate, they both turned and left Bodie standing alone, the familiar mask firmly in place. As they walked away Doyle heard Bodie talking quietly to Charlie just as he had that cold dark day in December, he didn’t want to hear what was being said, it was private meant just for the two of them.

Twenty minutes later Bodie walked over and joined the others by the bike.

‘Penny for them?’ asked Murphy.  
‘Like I said to Doyle a long time ago, thoughts of Charlie are worth far more than that. I need a drink, apparently there’s some sort of ceili later at the Derry Arms, I’ve heard it’s under new management – anyone fancy raising a glass or two to our Charlie?’

‘Seems fitting today’ replied Murphy ‘but won’t it be a bit odd going back there without Charlie?’

‘Nah’ said Doyle ‘it’s pretty much where it all began and I’m sure she’d be happy with us toasting her in a true Irish pub. I remember her saying it was as close to those back in Belfast as you could get, it was like being at home.’

‘Right, that’s decided then, we’ll meet there at eight and bring your best memories’ said Bodie climbing into the Capri.

By the time Bodie and Doyle arrived at the Derry Arms the band had set up in the same corner as the last time when they had been there for the meeting between Charlie and Malone; Murphy had even managed to grab the last table, the same one he had sat at previously.

‘Seems someone is looking out for us’ quipped Doyle as they walked over to Murphy ‘feels a bit deja vu doesn’t it?’

‘Bloody spooky if you ask me’ replied Bodie hastily looking round almost expecting Reilly and Malone to walk out of the back room. ‘Pint of Guinness all round?’ asked Bodie as he turned towards the bar to get the first round.

Bodie returned several minutes later with three pints of Guinness and they stood and raised their glasses. 

‘To Charlie, slainte.’

‘Slainte agad-sa’ replied Murphy and Doyle.

‘So’ asked Murphy ‘I know Doyle knows a bit about your joint past but we’re curious as to how you and Charlie met.’

Bodie took a sip of his pint and gathered his thoughts ‘We first met in Belfast in ‘71 when Charlie was working with the MRF, although I didn’t know that at the time. I was a cocky young corporal on my first tour with the Paras. My platoon was tasked with collecting some detainees from the outskirts of the Ballymurphy and to deal with the casualties left lying around. I remember being given some information by this green-faced young Irish kid, I thought they were no more than about sixteen, throwing up behind a car. Turns out it was Charlie’s first contact resulting in the death of one of the ‘other side’, we had no idea that we were there helping out our own side – we just thought we were there to deliver some internees to the nearest barracks and collect intel from one of the locals. I don’t think either of us was that impressed with each other to be honest.’

‘MRF? I thought Charlie worked for 14 Company?’ queried Doyle.

‘Weren’t they the ones who were involved in the Four Square Laundry set up – I seem to remember that their cover was blown when one of the laundry vans got shot up somewhere in West Belfast’ replied Murphy.

‘Yeah, a few of the members of the MRF moved over to 14 Company and they built upon their experience, improved the training etc with the help of the SAS. Charlie was one of the original members of the MRF.’

‘I didn’t think our mob were over there officially until ‘76, so when did you see Charlie again?’ asked Murphy.

‘About six months later, back in the UK, PTI Sergeant Charlie Price turned up at Aldershot – I don’t think anyone else made the connection with Belfast but I recognised Charlie straight away! Charlie was different – tough and more than capable of dealing with a bunch of young over-sexed, rowdy Paras, unlike some of the other PTI’s given the task of keeping us fit. I had just made Sergeant myself and we started to hang around together in the mess, we seemed to hit if off straight away and soon we could be found training together and spending our off duty time out on the bikes. Charlie was different, I think some of it was her attitude, she didn’t give a rats arse about convention, didn’t like being told no and was quite prepared to say so. Part of that was probably being the middle of five children, being left behind when the rest of her family moved over to the mainland and growing up in Belfast right at the start of the Troubles.’

‘So how come she ended up in the Army?’ asked Doyle.

‘You remember that evening when Charlie told us about that op in ‘77? Well after you left Charlie told me what it was like growing up over there and how she had been that close to becoming a fully paid up member of the PIRA. Charlie said if she hadn’t left when she did at sixteen she would have ended up as either an enforcer for the Brigade, in the Kesh or dead. I think she’d already been ‘helping out’ shall we say and not only that she had a reputation of being handy in a fight, she was a right tearaway by all accounts.’

‘Shit, what a choice to have to make especially at that age.’

‘Originally she said she was only coming to the UK for six months to try and clear her head – she needed to be sure that she would be committed to the Cause, so she started looking for work but found that no-one wanted to employ a young Irish Catholic tearaway. Then one day she just decided to try her luck at the recruiting office, it was a job with pay and perks and, as she was fond of saying, the rest is history. After her family left Belfast she decided to adopt her grandmothers name of Duffy but to put some distance between herself and what she’d been up to back across the water she went back to being Charlie Price when she joined up.’

‘No wonder her family disowned her – I’m surprised that the Army took her on’ said Murphy.

‘She was young, fit and could shoot, which a lot of the recruits couldn’t do. Being a PTI suited Charlie but she really came into her own in 14 Company. I’m sure those higher up couldn’t believe it when they realised how much of an asset she could be to them – Belfast born, family still living there and above all prepared to put her arse on the line time and time again. Good operators were and still are, hard to come by and Charlie had the best credentials of any of them at the time. Charlie used to say she could drink in any of the Republican pubs in Belfast but it wasn’t until we were out there and I looked properly at the maps that I realised that she was right. With her family background and training there was no way she didn’t fit in – most undercover operatives over there stick out like sore thumbs, there’s just something about a squaddie that gives them away.’ Bodie paused, took a long drink and put his empty glass down on the table. ‘Whose round is it?’

‘I’ll get these’ said Murphy grabbing the empty glasses.

As Murphy made his way to the bar Doyle glanced at his partner who was paying attention to the band and was struck by how at ease him seemed to be talking about Charlie and the past – it occurred to him that this was one of the only times he could remember Bodie opening up about past events. Charlie’s death had affected them all in different ways but in one sense it appeared that in some strange way it had made his partner more approachable, maybe because it had brought home to them all how easily friends could be lost. As they sat there waiting for Murphy to return with their drinks Doyle listened to the band – they were playing all the favourite Irish folksongs he could remember from his childhood, including ‘She moved through the fair’. He had a feeling that Charlie would have approved and he remembered that she had said when she first met Malone there had been a traditional band playing.

Once they were settled with their drinks, Bodie started to talk again.

‘Every so often Charlie would disappear and no-one would say what was going on – we’d often turn up and find a new PTI waiting for us. I used to keep an ear out for anything concerning Belfast, trying to work out whether Charlie was involved or not. We got on so well that it seemed strange not to see her about on base. As per usual one of us would be posted regularly but we tried to stay in touch as much as possible. If we were both in the UK we’d try and make sure we saw each other as often as possible, work allowing. Eventually I applied for the SAS and although we kept in touch for a while we didn’t see each other again until that op in ‘77. I think I was as surprised as Charlie at the briefing to find out that Keller and I were handling the backup for her and Kevin. After sorting out Keller we made plans to meet up for a drink when we both got back home but, as you know apart from seeing Charlie badly injured in the helicopter, we didn’t see each other again for another three years.’

‘No wonder you were walking around with a bruised face and ego then’ said Murphy.

‘Yeah well, we were rather alike in that we were both far too stubborn to admit that what had happened was neither of our faults. I went and spoke with Peter Skellen to try and understand some of what Charlie had been through, I realised that maybe it was time to put the past behind us especially as we were going to have to work together.’

‘So you didn’t know about any of the injuries?’ asked Doyle.

‘No, all I knew about was what the medics told me on the ride to the Royal Victoria – I left Charlie there and never visited her. The person in the helo wasn’t the person I knew before the op, I think I realised that whatever had happened to Charlie would stay with her til the day she died. I only found out the extent of things when she showed me the scars after the meeting here. Belfast changed Charlie, she became Duffy.’

‘Surely 14 Company must have realised that Charlie was struggling? Something must have cropped up during her evaluations?’ said Murphy.

‘Ah but you see Charlie was always very good at misdirecting people – she’d have been more than capable of playing on their need for a deep cover agent. You’ve got to remember that Charlie was the real thing – like I said earlier she was an Irish Catholic with all the right contacts and deeply held beliefs, although they were carefully hidden from the likes of us, so they were desperate to keep on using Duffy for as long as possible. Charlie built walls, kept things separate, like those beliefs and working for the British Army, none of the shrinks managed to breakdown the walls – until our very own Ross started digging.’

‘Was Ross the final straw then do you think?’ asked Doyle.  
‘Partly maybe, I think Charlie had been struggling for years but didn’t know how to ask for help, she just built the walls higher and higher until Duffy was the most important thing in her life and whatever mission 14 Company sent her on. I think finally working somewhere other than Belfast opened her eyes to a life without deception, a life without walls and the chance of a future.’

‘So why did she go back to Belfast, on a whim just for old times sake?’ snapped Doyle. ‘If she was so happy here and trying to make a future why risk it all, she was looking forward to getting involved in training with Macklin. I’ll never understand why she threw everything away, she seemed so happy after New Year, what changed?’

Bodie turned to Doyle ‘You want to know why Charlie went back? She went back because a friend asked for a favour – the week before she had resigned from 14 Company, but a friend needed one last favour. Kevin needed someone with Charlie’s ability to blend in so she said yes, she put the mission before herself again. Don’t you ever say Charlie was acting on a whim – yes she may have been flawed, damaged even but right til the end all she ever thought of was everyone else. Even before she died Charlie had lost everything, not just her health and her mind, that bastard Callaghan took her future!’

Just as Murphy turned towards the others the band began to play ‘Danny Boy’ and he had to raise his voice over the patrons in order to be heard. ‘I thought we were here to remember Charlie not fight amongst ourselves’ said Murphy. ‘What ever made Charlie do what she did, we shouldn’t judge her until we’ve experienced the things that made Charlie the person she was. Charlie was a casualty, not of her injuries but of ultimately of the Troubles.’

Bodie looked at Murphy and Doyle ‘did you know this was Charlie’s party peace, especially at mess does after a few pints of Guinness?’ he said smiling fondly at the memory. ‘Slainte.’


End file.
